


Dragon Age: Mage Origins

by Aesop_Jones



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesop_Jones/pseuds/Aesop_Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holly Surana enters the Fereldan Circle of Magi at five years of age.<br/>She will not leave for thirteen years.<br/>When she does, the duty of stopping the Fifth Blight will fall to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams of Dragons

Fairy tales are more than true — not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten- G. K. Chesterton

The room was a vast cavern, a dense forest of spires glass and masonry lay splayed before them, none of which muffled the echoes of their footsteps. Even the scores of armoured men surrounding them appeared dwarfed in the space, where the wind howled and sapped the heat from the stone. None of the children had said a word since they entered the room, the sudden shock of so cold and cavernous a room with the presence of several dozen armed fully-grown men had sapped their talent for conversation.  
After a full minute of frightened silence, the armoured men stood aside to admit an old man. His hair and beard were long, if a little unkempt, and he stood almost as tall as the men surrounding him. Despite this, his smile was kind, even if his eyes were weary. He looked at the audience of children, a motely group of five and six year olds, and cleared his throat.  
“Welcome,” he said in a gentle voice, “To the Circle of Magi. I will not speak for long, save to say that I am very glad to meet you all. I am First Enchanter Irving, and if any of you have any problems in your first weeks, you must tell me, so that I may fix it immediately. These men are Templars, and their job is to protect you and look after you, so I must ask that you respect their wishes and endeavour to follow their commands. I can see that many of you are close to falling asleep standing up, so let’s get you to bed. Follow the signs to the apprentice dormitories, and you will find a bunk bed with your names on it in short order. Come along.”  
The small crowd needed little encouragement to leave the room, or the Templars, and they followed Irving closely out of the room. As they entered one of the many corridors that circled the tower, many began conversing, growing louder and more confidant as they progressed through the tower. By the time they had reached the apprentice chambers, nearly all of the group were chattering, to the point where an irate voice yelled at them through one of the adjacent rooms to be quiet. The irate voice was quickly silenced when Irving calmly walked into the room, and the children took the opportunity to find their beds. By the time Irving returned, everyone had claimed their own space, and some had even fallen asleep. Irving was about to leave them in peace, when something caught at the edge of his vision. Turning around to see what it was, he saw a little girl had curled into a ball besides the doorway, staring ahead at the beds. A closer examination revealed that she was Elven, her short hair only accentuated her long ears. As quietly as he could, Irving sank to the floor to sit beside her. When she turned to look at him he nodded once, as if crouching to the floor next to young Elves was a casual occurrence for him. After a few moments of silence, Irving said quietly:  
“You appear somewhat lost child.”  
The girl nodded once, face carefully kept still.  
“Natural. Perfectly natural,” Irving said in the same quiet tone. “I assume you come from an Alienage, judging by the lack of Vallaslin.”  
The girl nodded again, her rigid face not giving an inch.  
“And so,” Irving said slowly, “and pardon for the question, but are you able to read child?  
The little girl didn’t answer, but she was obviously holding back a well of tears. She eventually managed to shake her head slightly.  
“I see,” Irving said, “Well that’s alright. Few here are able to read comprehensively, they only know what their name looks like. I shall help you find your bed for now. What was your name?”  
The little girl breathed deeply a few times, trying to force down the tears that threatened to burst out, then croaked:  
“Holly.”  
“Holly,” Irving repeated, standing up as he did so, “Well Holly, I think we shall find your bed in very short order. Come with me.”  
He held out his hand, but holly did not take it. She did rise however, and followed him across the room. Irving noted that she had no bags with her, and that her clothes looked, for want of a better word, worn in.  
“Here we are,” Irving said quietly, trying to avoid waking the other apprentices, “This is yours. You may sleep for as long as you like, newly arrived mages are given three days rest before they begin lessons.”  
“Thank you m’lord,” Holly said, eyes fixed on the bed.  
Irving chuckled, and knelt down to her eye level,  
“No Mage is addressed as a lord Holly. You may call me Irving, or First Enchanter, whichever is most suitable at the time.”  
“Okay,” Holly said with a nod. “Thank you First Enchanter.”  
Irving nodded, and began to walk away.  
“First Enchanter,” Holly called.  
Irving turned to face her, only to see a bowed head. He waited for a few moments, and she continued;  
“Is there any way to take out my magic? I don’t want…” she trailed off, and bowed her head again, tears streaming down her face.  
Irving did not say anything straightaway, he merely looked at her with an expression that could not be named. Then he slowly walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder.  
“Child, there is nothing that could remove your magic.” He said simply.  
He was lying, but the truth was hardly something that could comfort a little girl who was desperately afraid. Not this time at least.  
“I know some of what you feel, that your family is lost to you forever, that you have been consigned to a life you were never able to choose, and that it is your magic that has condemned you.”  
Holly looked up at him, unconcerned with the tears running down her face.  
“Try not to look so shocked,” Irving said with a very faint smile, “I did not arrive at the circle fully grown and bearded. Your abilities do mark you as different, but in time you can develop them and train yourself until you become extraordinary. Fear is your enemy, not your magic.”  
Holly wiped her nose, and nodded shakily. Irving guided her to her bed.  
“In time you will make friends, and perhaps they shall become a new family of sorts. The Circle of Magic will always be your home, and I for one, welcome you here.”  
Holly stared at him for a moment, then gave the tiniest of smiles.  
“Goodnight child,” Irving stood up to leave, “I see great things in your future.”  
It was only when he had left, and the silence of twenty three children sleeping settled over the room that Holly felt safe enough to bury her face in her pillow, and begin sobbing.


	2. A Good Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holly learns how to read, and Irving is interrupted.

I’m not pretty and I’m not smart. There are no role models for people like me.   
Yet.   
\- Emily Horne and Joey Comeau, A Softer World. 

“Magic exists to serve man, and Never Rule over him!” The Sister spat, achieving the enviable feat of working herself into a towering rage in the first sentence of her tirade.   
The impressive scale of her fury was somewhat wasted on the crowd of six year olds before her however, who were still half asleep and rather unsure of how to respond.   
“Do you know what that means?” the Sister hissed softly to her audience of bewildered children. “Yes!” she continued after a moment of silence, “That Mages are to serve the Maker in all his gloriousness and shun the dreaded Malifecar! To even contemplate shunning the Maker in such a sinful manner is an offense of enormous proportions. By your very natures, you sin against his gloriousness, but if you prostrate yourself…”  
Holly gave up on listening at this point. She recognized the structure of the sermon from the ramblings of Joren Cloudstred, a devout Andrastian who had screamed to the Alienage at large every evening, particularly at those who slept in the street or consumed alcohol in the open. It got rather boring after a while, and in any case feeling guilty for existing was poor advice. Besides, she didn’t even know what ‘Prostrate’ meant, and so it reasoned that there was little hope for from the rest of the speech. She instead looked around her, taking care to do so surreptitiously. She had never seen so many books in one space, or even this many books period. It was daunting, the idea of having to read all of the books here, especially when some of them sported such enthralling titles such as “Essays on the effect of trace amounts of lyrium on Agricultural land”, or “Meditations on Aviatum Thrum’s philosophies”. While learning to read had sounded exciting, Holly had not realized that being able to read would mean having to read such dry texts. At this time she turned her attention back to the Sister, sensing a deflation of energy approaching.   
“And so when you are tempted by sin and heresy,” the Sister intoned with the ponderous solemnity of a moral stamped upon every word, “Remember the Nug’s lettuce leaf.”   
With that she swept away from the podium and out of the Library. The Cleric who had entered with her coughed, as if trying to dispel the mania of the Sister from the room, and stepped aside to reveal a table laden with books.   
“We’ll start teaching you your letters in a moment,” she said, visibly uncertain about using the term ‘we’, “But first a treat. Each of you can pick a book out from here, which will be yours from now on. Read it in your spare time, write in it, do whatever you want.”  
The entire class rushed over to the table, and swarmed over the books there. Holly fought to catch glimpses of book covers, the only thing that distinguished one book from another for her.   
Some books showed pictures of heavyset human warriors fighting dragons, others showed particularly miserable looking human women who were surrounded by flowers and birds. One particularly striking cover showed a grimacing Templar driving a sword through a snarling monster that had been consuming a small child.   
It took Holly some time to notice the elongated ears of the Monster, but only a second to realise that it was meant to be a Dalish Elf.   
And though Holly couldn’t have said why, she felt extremely uncomfortable.   
She stepped back from the frenzied crowd, and took a few breaths of fresh air. That was when she noticed the blue book. All of the books on the table were dried red or gold in colour, but this book was a deep, if frayed and worn down, blue. It was on the floor, Holly decided that it must have been knocked off the table by the excited rabble. Holly darted down onto her knees so she could reach it, and snatched it out of reach quickly before anyone else noticed. She opened the cover, and saw a coloured illustration. It was crude, badly drawn and had a total of three colours, but it showed something unlike anything Holly had seen.   
It was of a red-haired woman in plate armour, wielding a sword as long as she was high, holding a stylized ball of fire in her left hand. But even stranger was the fact that she was Elven.   
Holly snapped the book shut, and turned to see if the Cleric was watching. The sort of people who would give out books about humans killing elves probably wouldn’t like a book about Elves who got to do things other than eat babies and die painfully, and Holly was unwilling to give up this treasure. Once she was satisfied that the Cleric was sufficiently distracted, Holly walked briskly out of the room and into the main corridor that connected the library to the rest of the Tower. Once she was satisfied that no one else was going to notice an Apprentice with a book, she opened it again.   
The illustration was still there, still real, still impossible. Instincts inherited from the Alienage kicked in, and Holly immediately began wondering where she could hide the book where no one else could get to it. Much as the Alienage community had been tight nit, the fact of the matter was that every Elf needed to eat, and sometimes that meant being a bad neighbour.   
But, she wasn’t in the Alienage anymore. And now that Holly thought about it, she had been supplied a trunk that could be locked, so maybe her dilemma was less serious than she had initially thought.   
But there was still a problem.   
Owning a book was wonderful and exciting and all sorts of other positive descriptions, but it wasn’t much good to her if she couldn’t read. 

There is a certain school of thought that states that constant positive encouragement and visually-focused forms of learning are the best methods of education, and that a nurturing environment is key to the healthy psychological character and positive self-esteem of any child.   
The Circle of Magi did not subscribe to this school of thought.   
If there was any method to the Circle’s mode of teaching, it was to ensure that students who understood the material well and were amendable to the rules of the Chantry were encouraged to excel, whereas those who had an impaired standard of mental health (‘bloody loonies’ was the insightful term coined by Knight-Commander Greigor) or had a dangerously maladjusted view of their fellow man (or Elf or Dwarf) were kept low in the ranks. An appalling situation, but a necessary compromise when the students involved could level a city in an afternoon if the mood took them. And an especially necessary compromise when one considered that the Chantry had exterminated entire Circles over the misdemeanours of a handful of Mages.   
Boiled down to its most simplistic form, the Circle of Magi effectively pushed its students off of a cliff, and then took note of who learned to fly and who plummeted to a terrifying death.   
So it was that Holly was given a ream of paper and told to copy down shapes on the massive chalkboard at the head of the class. These shapes were apparently called ‘letters’. The first challenge that Holly was faced with was one which tested the limits of her dexterity and willpower.   
How to hold a Quill.   
Holly immediately noticed that the bored looking Enchanter who had mumbled a list of instructions at the beginning of the lesson had been writing something ever since then. And this same Enchanter held their quill in a peculiar fashion.   
Holly had tried her best to mimic it, but even then she struggled with the unfamiliar sensation.   
Her second problem was copying down the letters.   
In theory this should have been easy, but with the unfamiliar strain on her hands, unpractised technique and need to constantly look up and down from her sheet of paper rendered it an extremely frustrating failure.   
By the end of the day, Holly was no closer to knowing how to read than she had been at the beginning.   
If she’d had more time she could have practised more, but she didn’t have any other letters on hand…  
And it was then that Holly had an idea. 

First Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Irving had been arguing, negotiating and teeth-clenchingly polite at dinners for several years now, and each had observed a certain rhythm to their interactions with one another. For example, at the moment Irving was staring at a collection fo books in the Eastern bookcase while Greigor paced up and down the First Enchanter’s office.   
“The Chantry will always eradicate Blood Magic wherever it spreads Irving, you more than anyone else should know this. Even to be suspected of…”  
“Suspicion is an uncertain ground to launch accusations from Greigor,” Irving replied calmly. “And the nature of these accusations are… well Greigor I can scarcely believe that you believed them without any further proof.”  
“Blood Magic is a serious offence!” Greigor snapped.   
“Undoubtedly. And were there indisputable evidence of Blood Magic then you would have my full support in apprehending these Mages, but there is barely a shred of evidence that proves they even left the Mages Quarters.”  
“Nonetheless…” Greigor stopped as he heard a knock on the First Enchanter’s door.   
Both men looked somewhat put out by this interruption, knowing that the flow of the argument was now disrupted, unlikely to be achieved again.   
“Enter!” Irving called out, taking a seat at his desk.   
The door eased open, being pushed in earnest by a small Elven girl. She walked calmly up to the First Enchanter’s desk, giving a small nod to Greigor as she passed.   
“Holly,” Irving said with a smile, “How are you?”  
“Hello First Enchanter,” Holly said politely, “Do you know where I can get some paper?”  
At this point Irving looked over to Greigor, who stood stock still as if he were still trying to understand what he was seeing.   
“There’s generally sheets of paper available from the storeroom,” Irving said bemusedly, “Could I ask why you require paper?”   
“We’re learning to draw letters,” Holly said, “So that we can learn how to write. And I want to keep drawing till I get it right.”  
Irving leaned forward to examine Holly closely. She was not here on a dare or joke, the Knight Commander had a knack of discouraging such deeds in his presence. She wanted to learn, enough that she would work in her own time. She was not the first to have done this, but any Apprentice voluntary doing work was rare enough to treasure.   
“Certainly Holly,” Irving smiled as he stood up, “I have a few reams here in the office as it is. Do you require pen and ink?”   
Holly nodded, and Irving rummaged through his finely-organized mess of a desk for these components.   
“Here we are, pen paper and ink,” Irving said cheerfully, handing them over to Holly with care, “I wish you the best of luck Holly. Good day.”   
“Thanks First Enchanter.”   
And with that she turned around and left the office, taking care to close the door behind her. 

The following weeks were challenging to say the least.   
It took Holly a week before she could shape her letters to her own satisfaction, and a few weeks more before she could draw letters without looking up at the board. When she was practising outside of the classroom, she used the name card that had been on her bed. Sounding out the letters quietly as she wrote, Holly learned quickly compared to the other students in her class, even if her right hand felt more tender than usual.   
Before Holly knew it, they had begun to sound out short basic words; Cat, Rat, Nug, and so on. Holly kept practising outside of class, and now a few students had begun to emulate her, though all had blanched when Holly advised them to ask the First Enchanter for some paper. As the nights continued, Holly and several other students met to practise writing, correcting each other as they went. It was Holly’s idea to begin making short stories out of the words they knew, even if they were as basic as ‘The Nug Hit the Cat in the face with a Incendiary (Holly had learned some more complex words in her nightly efforts) Fish’. Within months, every one of the Apprentices could read, far sooner than any of their tutors had expected.   
Irving said nothing about this when it was brought up by other Enchanters, but he did write a name down in a very small note book that he kept on his person at all times. The only thing he ever did say a bout was heard only by himself:  
“A fine achievement. Very fine.”

Holly knew there was one thing left to do however, one very important lesson that would prove she had learned to read.   
She opened her trunk, drew out the Blue Book, and read the title for the first time.   
The Deeds and Trials of Halana, Last of the Arcane Knights and Liberator of Chains.   
Holly smiled, and began to read the story.


	3. Escaping Punishment

The Worst Person you can think of  
Gets scared sometimes too. - Emily Horne and Joey Comeau, A Softer World

“Knife Ears!” A whispered voice shot.  
Holly stopped walking.  
It was actually surprising how little she had heard that slur, considering that she was an Elf. The Alienage was not, for obvious reasons, a common place to hear it, though sometimes particularly drunk humans would shout it over the walls before running away. In the six years that she’d been at the Circle however, she had never heard it. Some of that could have to do with the fact that several Senior Mages and Enchanters were Elven, and were had the power to back up their personal hang-ups on the slur. Nonetheless, she knew exactly what it meant, and was far from happy to hear it.  
She turned around slowly and deliberately to face the source of the slur.  
It was a Templar Initiate, whose face was twisted with what could be considered a smile, but only because there was no word for that kind of twisted expression of hatred and smugness.  
Holly looked at him for a moment, then turned around again and kept walking.  
Templars didn’t usually talk to the Apprentices, not if they could help it. It wasn’t just the fear of Mages that was instilled in all Templars, it was that the younger the Mage, the more likely they were to become an Abomination. A Templar who hesitated for even a second in slaying an Abomination was a dead Templar (if they were lucky). For similar reasons, Templars rarely insulted Mages, not directly at any rate. It was just embarrassing to have a Mage allow Demons to overrun their body and become Abomination which dedicates its existence to destroying you due to an off-the-cuff insult.  
Holly had resolved therefore to forget that this had ever happened, when the same voice appeared right by her left ear.  
“Knife-Ears,” the Templar spat quietly. “That’s all you are, some blood-sucking Dalish Knife Ear. When you turn into an Abomination, and you know you will, I’ll be there to stick a sword through your fucking throat and into your head.”  
Holly had a particular stare that she assumed whenever something was agitating her. Irving had jokingly described it as “trying to stare a hole through someone’s eyes.” It was not a consciously made effort, it just happened, often being accompanied by her normally nut-brown skin turning somewhat ashen and her posture becoming fully alert.  
It was with such a stare that she fixed the Templar with now. She took a breath, and then said with absolute clarity and deadly quiet:  
“I’m not Dalish. I came from an Alienage.”  
And with that she turned around and walked away, affecting a posture of such calm and ease, that one would never even guess at the thoughts running through her mind.  
But this would not be the last that Holly saw of him, though the next time she saw him it was not an adversarial encounter.  
She was browsing through a chantry pamphlet on the dangers of magic, gently smirking at the numerous mistakes and fabrications she found within, when she heard a full-throated bellow sound out from around the corner.  
“I DON’T CARE WHO YOUR FATHER IS, A TEMPLAR DOES NOT CONDUCT HIMSELF SO DISGRACEFULLY!”  
That sounded like Knight Commander Greigor chewing out another Templar recruit.  
Most Mages remembered the first time they heard Knight Commander Greigor shouting, it was such a rare event in the life of a Mage. If he was angry with a Mage or was preparing to discipline someone, he might take on an acidic tone or snap, but that was usually the limit. He was a remarkably level-headed man, something that only made him more terrifying.  
The only people that he ever yelled at were Templar recruits, and Apprentices soon learned that as much as they were under guard, Greigor spared even less patience for the wrongdoings of Templar’s under his control.  
“If I ever find you attempting to pass off the hard work of others as your own again, I’LL SEE YOU EXPELLED FROM THE ORDER MYSELF!”  
And with that Greigor swept from the Library and slammed the door with such force that the echoes did not disappear for some time.  
Only now did Holly feel safe enough to turn around and examine the source of the shouting.  
It was the same Templar that had met her in the hall yesterday, his shoulders slumped and lip quivering.  
With a jerk he turned to face Holly, and began to advance swiftly towards her. Holly put down her book and stood up, staring him directly in the eyes.  
“I bet you loved that Knife-Ears,” the Templar spat, “I bet you thought it was hilarious!”  
“No,” Holly said simply, “I thought it was unfortunate. I’m sorry it happened to you.”  
“Shut up!” the Templar screeched, grabbing her arm.  
Holly felt a wave of fear wash over her.  
Mages were, for the most part, physically unfit. Some were extremely corpulent, others were merely skinny, and there was very little opportunity to exercise their bodies. Certainly there was no training in combat, no Mage had access to traditional weaponry, even unarmed combat was discouraged. This was all calculated to give Templars an edge over Mages, an edge which could be wasted without prompt timing and the element of surprise.  
Holly had just enough time to reflect on this, and on how her lack of physical power had pit her at a serious disadvantage when faced with an unstable and violent bully of a Templar. She also registered that at this time of the day, there would be almost no one in the Library, but that there might be some people nearby. And finally, she registered that this Templar Initiate was not wearing his helmet.  
With all of this in mind, Holly took a deep breath, and then screamed as loudly as she possibly could.  
Then she punched the Templar in the face as hard as she could.  
He let go of her immediately, hands flying to his face. Holly knew that she had not hit him very hard, but it must have still been a shock. While he was incapacitated, Holly picked up her book again, and walked away, trying to appear as casual as possible. She knew that the Templar may try to resume his vendetta, and so she surreptitiously remained in sight of people for the next few days. She needn’t have bothered, the Templar seemed to make a point of avoiding her for the next few days, though she did hear something about him continually demanding bandages for his nose.  
And then the notes had begun to arrive.  
They were lying on her bed, folded in two and perfectly visible to anyone who cared to look.  
“Getting love letters?” Jen Holt, an Apprentice Mage, teased her.  
Holly had smiled, opened the letter, and saw before her:  
YOU FILTHY MAGE WHORE YOUR GOING TO PAY  
Holly’s smile fell, to be replaced by a serene expression of quiet and deadly fury.  
She received several similarly worded letters across the next few weeks, some of them bearing crude diagrams of her being sexually violated by several Templars. The colour red tended to feature heavily in these illustrations.  
All that Holly did with them was correct the spelling, and store them away in a bundle, locked away in the depths of her trunk.  
She told no one, it seemed obscene to bring up such a subject in polite society. Besides, she had a very good idea who had sent these, and there was nothing that could be done about him. She still saw him in passing occasionally, and was careful to adopt a very neutral expression when he was in eyeshot. Still, he did not talk to her directly. He continued to send notes, with sporadic regularity.  
The next time she talked to him was the first time that she met Jowan.  
Apprentices could first arrive at the tower when they were as young as six, the oldest apprentices rarely escaped detection past twelve. Jowan was eleven when he came to the Tower, which had marked him as an outcast straight away. His advanced age meant he had missed making friends in his first few years, he could not read or write, and he had the clearest memories out of any of them of what life was like without magic. His perpetually apologetic demeanour and truly staggering lack of common sense only compounded the issue, he was the kind of boy who would construct an elaborate tower of books so that he could reach the top of a high shelf when a stepladder was within reach.  
Holly hadn’t talked to him much, though truth be told she hadn’t talked with anybody much. This was perfectly acceptable, considering that some Mages grew so solitary that they weren’t even aware that Irving had assumed the post of First Enchanter of the Fereldan Circle.  
So when Holly first saw Jowan getting his skull stomped on by the Templar who had twice failed to cow her, she knew nothing of him other than the fact that he was an Apprentice Mage.  
This did not cause her to hesitate even for a second as she ran into the Templar and knocked him over onto the hard stone floor.  
“Are you alright?” Holly asked Jowan, pulling him up.  
By the blood that caked his head and the dazed expression in his eyes, it was plain to see that he was most definitely not alright. Holly inhaled deeply, then darted left and right to make sure no could see what she was about to do. Apprentices weren’t allowed to use magic unless there were dire circumstances, and she’d rather not go through the ordeal of accusing a Templar and pleading her case.  
When she was satisfied that no one else was watching, she closed her eyes and held her breath.  
Fix an image in your head… let it come out in soft waves… don’t force it, let the magic flow through you… don’t be afraid… remember, I am with you… fear is your enemy…  
Irving’s words echoed in her mind as she pictured a soft green gently washing across an empty space. A light began to flicker on within the green light, growing steadily stronger and stronger until the green was washed away by a blinding white light.  
Holly opened her eyes to look down at Jowan. There was still some dried blood around his head, but now his eyes were focused and his head wounds were beginning to scab.  
Holly sighed with relief. She’d never be much of a healer, but she could at least fix up basic wounds.  
Or make them bleed less at least, which from what Holly understood was what all medicinal treatment boiled down to.  
“Okay, how about now,” Holly asked Jowan gently.  
“Where’s Armon?” Jowan asked, slowly growing more alert.  
“Who?” Holly asked.  
“Me,” the Templar growled.  
Holly and Jowan both turned to see Armon struggling to his feet.  
Unlike the last time Holly had assaulted him, the damage was rather serious. His left cheek had been badly scraped, to the point where parts of it were dangling from the side of his face. His left eye was bloodshot, and there were specks of froth around his mouth.  
“What do we do?” Jowan asked in a quiet whisper.  
Holly didn’t deign this with an answer, just grabbed his hand and pulled to him to his feet as she ran away.  
Jowan was a little unsteady on his feet, but he kept up a decent pace, and thanks to the cumbersome armour and blood loss being suffered by Armon, they very soon lost him.  
“Alright,” Jowan panted, “Good plan, but we might need another.”  
“You’re right,” Holly replied, “If he’s got any brains in his head he’ll go to the Templars and tell them that he was attacked by two Mages. After that, it’s just a matter of whether we get executed, imprisoned, or made tranquil.”  
“So what, you’re suggesting that we finish him off now!” Jowan exclaimed in horror.  
Holly’s piercing stare returned as her skin turned ashen, and when she spoke it was very quiet and very dangerous:  
“No. That is not what I am suggesting.”  
Jowan gulped, and Holly took a deep breath as colour returned to her face.  
“What I was suggesting,” Holly continued, “Is that we discredit him. Make it clear that he was chasing us. I am suggesting that you go back to the Apprentice quarters, or maybe the medicine wing so that you’re out of danger.”  
“No,” Jowan said firmly, and Holly looked up in surprise. There had been no hint of uncertainty or quavering apology in that word, and Jowan looked determined.  
“You helped me,” Jowan said, voice still devoid of uncertainty and timidness, “And this is the only way to get him off of both our backs.”  
Holly smiled, and nodded her head once.  
Armon was still trying to run through the corridor that Holly and Jowan had left behind long ago when he was forced to stop and vomit onto the stone floor. He then winced at the tension he had placed upon his torn cheek, and gingerly extended a hand to feel if it had torn further. He panted as he leaned back against the wall, violent thoughts pulsing in his mind.  
Therefore his first reaction to seeing Holly and Jowan jogging past him, just past his arm’s reach, was to growl and lumber after them. By all rights he should have collapsed, but it seemed that pure spite and hatred was granting him a new burst of energy.  
“So exactly who are we trying to find?” Jowan shouted before turning his head around to check on Armon’s lurching progress.  
“Either First Enchanter Irving or Knight-Commander Greigor,” Holly panted, her body protesting at this new form of unpleasant and distressing exertion.  
“You think they can help?” Jowan panted.  
“Maybe,” Holly struggled.  
“So, how are we getting out?” a new voice called out from beside them.  
Holly and Jowan turned to see a Blonde Mage about their age, grinning widely and bounding along in long confidant strides.  
“What?” Holly asked in genuine puzzlement.  
“Well, you two are running away from a Templar, you’re escaping right?” the Mage said reasonably.  
“Ah, no,” Jowan managed, “We’re trying to get him caught.”  
“Fair enough,” the Mage nodded, “I can respect that. Well, best of luck!”  
And without much in the way of a fuss, he left their side to run down a different corridor, picking up speed considerably.  
Holly and Jowan looked at each other, before realizing that the clank of Armon’s armour was growing louder. Holly darted her head around frantically, aware that her body couldn’t sustain this kind of pace for much longer.  
She gasped as she felt a sharp pull from behind her, Armon had obviously grabbed a hold of her robes. Jowan saw this and rammed into Armon with great force, something which failed to slow Armon down. Holly did manage to escape however, and both she and Jowan burst forward again in a final effort to escape.  
To her immense relief, the First Enchanter’s door was in sight.  
“All right Jowan, crash into this door… NOW!”  
For the second time in her residence at the Circle, Holly interrupted an argument between First-Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Greigor.  
Holly and Jowan collapsed into the office, both panting and out of breath, soaked with sweat. Armon charged in, tripped over the collapsed Mages, and fell to the floor with considerably more force.  
Irving noted with grim amusement that Greigor had been struck speechless by the sight before him, and was about to take advantage of such an opportunity when Armon scrambled to all fours and spat with fury:  
“You’re dead! I’m going to break your pretty little face into pieces and toss your bleeding body to the dogs for them to…”  
He stopped suddenly, twitching slightly while standing rigidly in place. Holly and Jacob were about to ask if he was okay when Irving said in a very quiet voice:  
“I hope that was not too excessive a use of magic Greigor.”  
Greigor did not answer, but he did walk over to Holly and Jacob to ask:  
“What is the meaning of this?”  
“This Templar was cracking my skull open on the floor when she came to save me,” Jowan blurted out.  
Holly looked at him in alarm. The idea had been to incriminate Armon in the act of unfairly targeting them, not to tell Irving and Greigor that Armon was unfairly targeting them…  
…  
It was then that Holly realized that she was not without her own idiosyncratic flaws in applying common sense to the real world.  
“He’s been sending me notes, and threatened me directly,” Holly said, looking directly at Irving.  
Irving’s expression was thoughtful, and to Holly’s delight, when Greigor turned to look at Irving, Irving nodded.  
“Release him Irving,” Greigor said curtly.  
Holly and Jowan struggled to their feet and backed away. As Armon was released from the magical bonds that had held him, he looked up beseechingly at Knight-Commander Greigor.  
“Knight Commander,” he said in a simpering tone, “You can’t believe a word these Malifecar say! I caught them practising blood magic! They attacked me, look!”  
He gestured at his various wounds, strands of vomit and blood dangling from his lip.  
Greigor said nothing, nor did his gaze shift from the battered Templar who lay ebfore him.  
“Would you like to know what we were just discussing Armon?” Greigor said in a pleasant tone. “We were discussing a curious spate of injuries among many Apprentice Mages. And then Irving informed me that various lewd and intimidating letters had been sent to individual Apprentices. And that’s when two exhausted Apprentices crash into the room, one of whom is suffering from serious head wounds. And who should follow but the most abysmal excuse for a Templar that this Circle has ever seen? The same Templar who used to bully every other initiate in close proximity before they all grew stronger than you. The same Templar who has either cheated at or failed every test presented to him. The same Templar who has been conspicuously absent from several of his classes.”  
Greigor’s voice had been growing softer and softer throughout his speech, until it was a deadly biting whisper which cut the air itself.  
Before the inevitable and terrible explosion could occur, Irving gently put his hands on Holly and Jowan’s shoulders, and led them out of his office.  
“Well,” Irving sighed once they were well away from Greigor. “I don’t envy the time you’ve been having. I’m so sorry we couldn’t act sooner.”  
“So others have been…” Holly found that for some reason she could not finish this sentence. She didn’t know why, though the idea that people other than herself and Jowan had been targeted by Armon still seemed strange.  
“Yes. But the word of an Apprentice Mage is worth very little compared to a Templar,” Irving said quietly. “Even Enchanters have had trouble accusing Templar Initiates of wrongdoing. But we are fortunate that you two were brave enough to bring him crashing into my office.”  
“But that isn’t fair!” Jowan protested, “What happens if a Templar goes mad, do we all have to keep quiet?”  
Holly was taken aback at this. She had never considered it in terms of fair, life seemed so divorced from such an absurd concept.  
“There are checks in place, as we saw today,” Irving said firmly, walking a little faster.  
“That wasn’t a check,” Jowan said indignantly, “That was Holly having the guts to defend me and then force Greigor to see the problem! I would have died if she hadn’t helped me!”  
Holly blushed fiercely at that, from the way that Irving paced it seemed that he wasn’t comfortable with this conversation.  
“Young man,” Irving said, an edge entering his voice, “This is the way that the circle works. If we are prepared to compromise and be mindful of the Templars, then they will leave us alone. I assure you, this will not happen again. Good night young man.”  
And with that he deposited Jowan in the Boy’s dormitories, and leant against the wall for support.  
He suddenly looked very tired.  
He looked up at Holly, and let a weak smile spread across his face.  
“A very indignant young man,” he sighed, “It’s amazing how many indignant young men that we produce here.”  
Holly dwelled on this for a moment, and then ventured a question.  
“First Enchanter, what will happen to Armon?”  
“Oh, he will most likely be expelled from the order,” Irving said breezily, “An ideal Templar is one who can diffuse a conflict without resorting to violence, and I gather the young man has been struggling with his workload for some time now. Still, it’s enormously gratifying, I really am rather grateful to you both.”  
“I see,” Holly said, her expression sombre.  
Irving noticed this, and asked gently:  
“You look somewhat morose Holly, is something wrong?”  
“I’m…” Holly hesitated. “I’m not really sure. I thought I was the only one being targeted. And I’m wondering why he did this.”  
Irving’s weak smile drained away, and he cast his eyes to the roof.  
“He was most likely afraid,” Irving said thoughtfully.  
“Afraid?” Holly said.  
“Yes,” Irving said, “strange as it sounds. As I understand it he was the son of a lesser Seneschal, and had enjoyed some degree of power over those ‘beneath his station’.”  
Irving spat out these last words, as if they carried a rotten taste.  
“And when he came to the Tower, it seemed a dream come true. An entire Tower of Initiates and Apprentices for him to terrorize. But Templars are not permitted to bully their charges, and I imagine the boy soon discovered that there were bigger and stronger Initiates and Apprentices than himself. It’s a despicable, brutish and wholly unsympathetic motive, but it is a motive that many reprehensible people share, and you will most likely encounter it throughout your entire life.”  
“I see,” Holly said, not sure whether she was telling the truth or not.  
“Well, I imagine Greigor has finished with our young Initiate, I’ll try to reclaim my office. Again, you have my apologies. I imagine you must be very angry at what’s happened to you.”  
“I’m not angry though,” Holly said calmly. “I just feel sorry for him.”  
And with that, she turned around and entered her own quarters.  
Irving remained where he was for some time, before finally rousing himself and returning to his office. In the end, neither he, nor Holly, nor Jowan, slept well that night, the weight of a great and crushing uncertainty bearing down on them.


	4. Entering the Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Harrowing Begins

I might tire myself out from struggling  
and drown  
but I will not sink.  
\- Emily Horne and Joey Comeau, A Softer World

It was the dead of night when the Templars came for Holly, a biting chill hung in the air despite the great fires burning throughout the Apprentice Quarters. Holly had been waiting for them, never even closing her eyes. Irving had given her some warning, without telling her outright, that tonight would not hold much in the way of sleep for her.  
For tonight was when Holly’s Harrowing would take place.  
The Harrowing…  
It was one of the most anxious and repeated topics of conversation amongst the Apprentices of the Tower, and among some of the more senior Mages as well.  
What was it, When did it happen, why was it so important? All these questions and more buzzed around the tower, at every level and throughout every hall.  
Templars were instructed to clear answers to the latter two questions, so that the Apprentices did not fall into complete panic and desperation. The Harrowing would occur when the Apprentice in question was ready to become a Mage, and it was important because the Harrowing tested an Apprentice’s commitment to the Circle and their suitability to Tower Life.  
A Mage or Enchanter might deliver vague hints as to the exact nature of what the Harrowing was and expand on the Templar’s curt statements, but they seemed to take a perverse delight in confusing and frustrating the Apprentices. Some Mages considered it a rite of passage for a Mage to answer an Apprentices questions about the Harrowing with ‘It’s very harrowing’.  
For the past three years however, Holly had been under the personal tutelage of First Enchanter Irving, who had been a little more generous with information. He did not tell her what the Harrowing was, but he did take the time to tell her what it was not, and that revising some of the different kinds of Demons would be wise.  
So the appearance of two Templars with drawn swords standing by her bed was no surprise, and Holly was determined to act like it. She simply sat up in bed, still dressed in her Robes, and slipped her feet into her shoes.  
“Where to?” she asked in a calm voice.  
The Templars looked at eachother, Holly was willing to bet that under their helmets was an expression of disappointment.  
“Follow us,” One of the Templars said.  
Holly tried not to show any outward signs of irritation, but the several flights of stairs were wearing her down. The Templars accompanying her seemed to have similar sentiments, their heavy plate mail armour forced them to stop every now and then to get their breath back. They were also visibly discomforted when a Mage wandering the corridors caught sight of them or when Owain called out to see if they needed any assistance.  
All in all, everyone was grateful to reach the top of the Tower.  
The Door opened to reveal four men waiting for Holly. One of them was Irving, another was Greigor, and the remainder where two fully armoured Templars with Broadswords resting in their hands. They stood in the middle of a vast atrium, ornately decorated and fashioned as the rest of the tower. Even at this height, stained glass turned moonlight into a waxy substitute that did a poor job of illuminating the Tower. But here at least it was not necessary, there was a light source from the centre of the room. It was a rich blue light which did not flicker or falter, the kind of light that only pure Lyrium could produce.  
Most Mages were lucky to see even a small bottle or sample of Purest Lyrium, it was dangerous, poisonous, and most important of all, expensive.  
This was an entire basin full, it was more Lyrium than Holly would have been able to drink, and she was left staring in awe.  
“Magic exists to serve Man,” Greigor intoned, a heavy tone born from ritual weighing down his words, “And never to rule over him. Thus spoke the Prophet Andraste as she cast down the Magisters of the Tevinter Imperium.”  
Holly examined Greigor closely, there were none of the laughter lines that collected at the corners of his eyes when he talked to Irving, and his mouth was not downturned in the scowl that he adopted when angry at Mages, all that Holly could see was a terrible determination and emotional disconnect.  
If she failed, he would not hesitate to take whatever measures seemed the most appropriate.  
“Your magic is a gift, but it is also a burden,” Greigor continued, “It leaves you susceptible to possession by Demons, and we must test your resolve. This is the true nature of the Harrowing.”  
And with that he drew his sword, flames bursting forth as he did so.  
It took all of Holly’s willpower not to step back, she was familiar with Runes and the like, this looked like nothing more than a Master grade Flame Rune embedded into Greigor’s sword, but the swift and passionless way he drew it was somehow more terrifying than the flames.  
Almost against her will, Holly’s eyes darted to the First Enchanter, whose guarded face still belied anxiety at the sight before him.  
“This, is Lyrium,” Greigor declared, “The source of Magic, and your gateway into the Fade.”  
Holly fixed her attention onto Greigor, picking her words with the care that any young woman summons when a Man with the power of life or death over her wields a Flaming Sword in his hand.  
“What do you mean by ‘gateway into the fade’?” Holly asked, a catch in her breath.  
“Your body will remain here, but your mind travels to a destination prepared by several Senior Enchanters.” Greigor explained.  
Holly nodded. This made a certain sense. Transporting her entire body into the Fade was near to impossible; even if the Ancient Legends of the Tevinter Magisters were true. It would have required countless gallons of Lyrium and a distressing amount of blood to recreate the Experiment that saw the corruption of the Golden City. But sending her mind to a pre-mediated location in the Fade was much easier, if no less dangerous for her.  
Holly swallowed, her face still a mask that refused to crack, and stepped forward towards the Lyrium.  
“In the Fade lies a Demon,” Greigor intoend, voice bouncing of the walls, “You must resist its advances and defeat it. Should you fail, we Templars will not hesitate in carrying out our duty.”  
Holly had no doubt of this.  
She stepped towards the basin of Lyrium, almost transfixed by the rich blue light it emanated. Instinctively, she reached out a hand to touch the Lyrium, and suddenly the Blue light grew in intensity until it was blinding. There was a sensation of her skin tightening, a strange acrid smell, and suddenly Holly’s world went black. 

The Fade is the realm where all Mortals (save Dwarfs) travel to when they fall asleep and begin to dream, which is to say that it is the realm of contradictions and madness. Populated with the Maker’s First Children, they are able to shape much of the Fade to their own preferences and desires, though almost anything that a Spirit or Demon creates will be a poor copy of something from the Mortal World.  
And thus it was that Holly woke up to see a tower of chairs before her.  
The chairs were stacked single file one on top of the other, did not sway in the howling wind that surrounded Holly, and were stacked so high that Holly could not truly see the top of the tower. Around her were more disjointed and confusing facsimiles of objects from the mortal world, including an Archway from the Circle Tower that stood on its own and a statue of an inhuman figure that Holly didn’t recognize. The ground beneath her was an unpleasant dull yellow in colour, and had a distressing consistency that felt more like flesh than anything else. Holly got to her feet, and walked cautiously to what looked like an edge to the ground she was on.  
After looking over the side of this edge and seeing only empty air, she realized that she was on a floating island. Holly did not know what would happen if she fell off the edge, perhaps she would fall, or more worryingly, perhaps she wouldn’t.  
Either way, Holly didn’t care to find out, and turned around to see what else was on the Island.  
A narrow path beckoned, leading to a bigger series of islands along the way. Presumably the Demon lurked on one of the other islands, unless a stack of chairs was its cunning (and confusing) disguise.  
Holly began walking, trying to ignore the sounds her feet made as they touched the ground. 

There was no time in the Fade, and it occurred to Holly that even her perception of time was bound to be affected when she journeyed through a realm that divided her mind from her body.  
What felt like hours in the Fade might only be seconds in the real world, Holly thought to herself, Maybe even less than that.  
Or perhaps a few seconds here could be hours in the real world.  
Holly quickened her pace.  
At one point Holly was sure that she saw a sun, until it divided into two suns, who presently began to drift away from each other. They had not cast particularly strong light in any case.  
Holly had heard that the one fixed point in all of the Fade was the Black City, which lay in the exact centre of the Fade. Holly turned her head and craned her neck that she might better see it, but it was all for naught. She could see several ominous looking shadows high in the clouds, but these were impossible to distinguish from the several other ominous looking shadows that also hung in the clouds above her, so she quickly gave up.  
A few times Holly looked back in frustration to see if she had made any kind of progress. The stack of chairs was certainly smaller, but it seemed that the islands ahead of her were no closer.  
Holly was beginning to wonder whether she should have stayed with the tower of chairs when a Mouse scurried before her.  
Holly swore and began focusing on an offensive spell, there was no reason for a flesh and blood mouse to reside in the fade.  
“So, another Mage is thrown into the fire,” the Mouse said in the voice of a young man.  
Holly stared at the creature for (what felt like) a few seconds, then said in a cautious tone:  
“You’re a talking mouse.”  
“I’m not really a mouse,” the mouse said in irritation, “I just look like one.”  
“Ah,” Holly said, relaxing somewhat, “So you’re not a mouse, you just look like one, behave like one, are the size of one, and in almost every other respect possible, resemble a mouse. I don’t know what I was thinking.”  
The Mouse sniffled its nose indignantly at this, before dissolving into a blinding light. When Holly opened her eyes again, an Apprentice Mage in Yellow Robes stood before her.  
“I wasn’t always like this,” he said irritably, “I was an Apprentice like you. But I took too long, and the Templars killed my physical body before I could return to it.”  
Holly felt her stomach (or technically her perception of her stomach) drop.  
“How long did you take?” Holly asked urgently, caution thrown to the wind.  
“I don’t know,” the Apprentice said, “This was Ages ago. Long enough that I forgot my actual name and who I was. If I meet anyone in these Maker-forsaken halls I just introduce myself as Mouse. I tried other names, but the most that the creatures who live here can manage is ‘Mouse’, ‘Rat’ or ‘Morsal’. So Mouse it is.”  
“Fine,” Holly said, “Mouse, whatever your name is, I need to finish my Harrowing before they do to me what they did to you. Can you help me?”  
Mouse looked at her with a blank expression, before sighing, hunching his shoulders and grudgingly declaring:  
“Fine. But I make no promises you’ll leave here alive.”


	5. The Demon's Downfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holly faces her Demons.

There won’t always be someone there  
to catch you.  
So fall now, while the falling’s good!- Emily Horne and Joey Comeau, A Softer World

The Island ahead did not get any closer as Holly and Mouse walked towards it.  
“Does it always take so long to travel to this Island?” Holly asked in exasperation, grateful that she felt no physical strain in the Fade.  
“Depends,” was all Mouse said, scurrying along beside her. He didn’t seem very comfortable as a human.  
“Why a mouse?” Holly asked after a brief pause.  
“What,” Mouse asked.  
“Why turn into a Mouse? Surely a Lion or a Wolf would make more sense.”  
“I can’t hide as a Lion or a Wolf,” Mouse replied briskly, keeping pace with Holly.  
“Is that all you do, hide?” Holly asked in disbelief.  
“Well what would you do if you were trapped here?”  
“Well I suppose I might think to use some of the incredibly powerful magic at my disposal,” Holly replied, voice growing more acidic and sarcastic as she progressed.  
“And then you might suppose that you’ve attracted every Demon in the Fade to come and get you!” Mouse replied in acid tipped tones of his own. “I haven’t got anywhere to go remember, I’m stuck here!”  
“What’s that in the distance?” Holly asked, holding a hand up to her brow to shield the light from her eyes.  
“Hiding is all I’ve got!” Mouse continued, “I agree it’s not an action conducive to dignity, but that’s not something I have much of either!”  
“Mouse, what is that?” Holly pressed, “It looks like some kind of flickering light on the side of the path ahead!”  
“Its how I’ve spent my life, Hiding from Aunt Harriet, then hiding from the Templars, then hiding from Demons! And I’m not sure who was the worst of the lot!”  
“Mouse, not that this isn’t thrilling but what is that we’re getting closer to?” Holly asked, pace slowing.  
“I know Aunt Harriet doesn’t exactly sound fearsome from the name, but after I accidentally sat on her cat she never stopped trying to… what’s that?”  
Mouse finally took note of what Holly had been studying for some time, and slowed to match Holly’s own slackened pace.  
The flickering shape ahead kept emanating light which ebbed and flowed, its exact shape was impossible to be sure of. At one moment Holly could have sworn that it was a Templar, resplendent in shining armour and sword in hand. The next moment it was a lion with long flowing mane, the moment after it was a milestone which stood proud and erect.  
As Holly drew nearer, the light grew no more constant, but the shape seemed to settle into a humanoid figure.  
At last, Holly stopped to face the figure directly, whereupon she had the unerring gfeeling that it was looking upon her with great attention.  
“Hello?” Holly ventured, poised to flee if necessary.  
“Greetings!” a voice boomed. “Are You A Mage That Wonders Through The Fade!”  
“I am, who are you?” Holly responded carefully.  
“I Am Valour, A Spirit Of This Place! Fear Not Mage, I Have No Desire To Harm You!”  
“Oh a Spirit!” Mouse sighed with visible relief, “Quick talk to it, we might be able to get help.”  
“Can you help us?” Holly asked. “We’re trying to find a Demon.”  
“Are You? Then I Wish You Luck In The Coming Battle!”  
Holly waited for a moment, then when it was clear that this was the extent of Valour’s answer, she pressed on.  
“Please, I need help, some advice, a map, a weapon,” she said.  
“Then You Must Prove You Are Worthy,” Valour declared, “Best Me In Battle And I Shall Grant You A Weapon!”  
As Valour spoke, Staves and Swords appeared behind it, all of different sizes and makes.  
“Are those even real?” Holly asked in spite of herself.  
“Do You Believe That They Are?” Valour replied. “The Fade Is A Realm Of Belief And Will, Your Very Form Is A Result Of Your Own Certainty, As Is My Form The Result Of MY Own Certainty. Will You Fight Me In Honest Combat?”  
Holly thought on this. She was able to cast a few spells, though she wasn’t sure if they would work in the Fade, so a Weapon would be useful when facing the Demon. But if she needed help to defeat a Demon, then how was she to defeat a manifestation of courage and strength? And did she even have time to fight a Spirit? Could she maybe negotiate?  
No, this was a Spirit of Valour, Negotiation would be insulting. Demanding on the other hand…  
Holly drew herself to her full height, stared the figure in what might have been its eyes if it had any.  
“A Spirit of Valour? You? I refuse to believe it.”  
There was a moment of absolute silence, even the wind seemed to stop howling.  
“How Dare You,” The Spirit hissed slowly.  
“Challenging a Mage who is without a weapon, a Mage who is afraid and uncertain, where is the valour in that?”  
“I WILL NOT BE INSULTED THUS!” The Spirit’s voice grew to an ear-splitting roar as it towered over Holly, a snarling mouth full of jagged teeth appearing through the light.  
“And I will not be cowed by the likes of you!” Holly said firmly. “I will not fight you, but I will leave here with a weapon.”  
Holly stood resolute at the gaping maw before her, not daring to move. The Spirit roared again, jaw turned to the sky.  
The only answer that Holly deigned to grant was a glare.  
After a pause, The Spirit returned to a humanoid shape, and said in a considerably calmer voice:  
“Your Will Is Undoubtedly Strong. Very Well, Since I Cannot Question Your Valour, You May Use One Of My Weapons.”  
At that the Spirit extended a hand, in which a metal staff appeared.  
Holly took it hesitantly, she half expected it to dissipate into air and vapour. It remained solid in her hand however, and she saw that it was a Mage’s Staff.  
“Thank you,” Holly said distantly, before regaining her sense and focusing on the Spirit. “This is a fine weapon.”  
“It Will Be In Your Hands,” The Spirit replied.  
For an instant, Holly thought she saw a flash of red hair and Elvish ears in the changing features of the spirit, and then with a bright flash of light that blinded Holly for a moment, the Spirit was gone. 

“Mouse, are you still there?” Holly asked, still hesitant to move any part of her body.  
“Hhrrrngh,” Mouse managed.  
“Yeah, me too,” Holly sighed. She looked at the path ahead of them, and let her shoulders slump. “How is this a fair test?” Holly said, addressing no one in particular.  
She felt foolish as soon as she asked, the world was not known for being fair, nor were Templars.  
Why a near eternally long path? Who benefited from it? She didn’t, the Demon wouldn’t, the Templars wouldn’t, so why would was this here?  
That was assuming that the Circle had a hand in creating this place in the Fade. Conceivably they could, the Fade was a place of…  
The Fade was a place of belief and will.  
Holly squared her shoulders, drew in a deep breath, and closed her eyes.  
To cast a spell, any spell, required the knowledge of how it worked and its effects, the desire to cast it and the will to bring it into being. It was not enough to want a jet of flame to spew from one’s fingertips, you had to know exactly what it would do, you had to believe wholeheartedly that you could control it, and you had to know a way to cast it that would bring no harm yo you.  
It stood to reason that altering the Fade would be no different, but that reasoning was shaky and fuelled by desperation.  
Holly tried to clear her mind, slow her breathing, and focus on one single concept, the End of the Road.  
She thought of the relief that she would feel when she arrived at her destination, the fatigue that would ache in the soles of her feet, the exhaustion of knowing that the job was only half done.  
The path would flare out, she decided, the circular island that held the Demon would have high walls that kept out the wind and the Demon would be waiting in the very centre…  
“What did you do!?” Mouse screamed, shrill voice cutting through Holly’s concentration.  
Holly opened her eyes, and the End of the Path lay before her.  
“Seriously,” Mouse continued, scurrying around in circles as he spoke “One moment we were standing on the path, the next… Did you do this?”  
Pride was a dangerous quality, but it was difficult for Holly to feel anything else with Mouse speaking in such awed tones before her. Rearranging the entire Geography of a landmass in the Fade was no small feat after all.  
“Now we just need to see if the Demon is here,” Holy said with renewed certainty.  
They did not have to look far.  
As Holly spoke, the ground before them erupted into smoke and flames. Heat seared across Holly’s skin as a stream of Magma surged to the surface, twisting into a humanoid shape.  
“And So You Come To Me,” The Demon hissed.  
“Not exactly,” Holly said, swinging her staff up into what she thought was a combat stance.  
Evidently the Demon was not cowed by her weapon, it laughed derisively.  
“Another toy for my amusement,” the Demon declared, “You cannot call for help here!”  
“Interesting,” Holly said, lowering her staff and raising a hand to her chin as if in thought, “Very Interesting.”  
“What?” the Demon demanded.  
“Residents of the Fade really do copy everything they know from the Human world,” Holly said in mock amazement, “Because that was the most unoriginal speech I’ve ever heard. I’m not sure what I should have guessed, given what I heard about you.”  
“What do you mean?” the Demon said in a deadly whisper.  
“Unoriginal, weak, impulsive, pre-occupied with chairs laid on top of one another,” Holly rattled off, noting the growing intensity of the Demon’s fire, “Not that I needed to be told, I figured most of it out on my own. I half wonder whether you’re my real test, the Demon here is supposed to tempt me into possession. The most you could manage was tempting me into mild frustration.”  
The Demon swelled until it stood, if unsteadily, a full head taller than Holly.  
“YOU STAND ALONE!” the Demon roared.  
“No she doesn’t!” another voice rang out from behind the Demon, and Mouse transformed into his human form. “I’m done hiding from you!”  
Holly could have kissed Mouse for the perfect timing of his distraction. As the Demon swung around to face Mouse, Holly thought of biting cold and crackling ice, and cast Winter’s Grasp upon the Demon’s lower body. Ice gripped the Demon’s base, and combined with its already unsteady posture, sent it toppling to the ground. Mouse cast a bolt of lightning, which sent the Demon into convulsions. And as the Demon twitched and grunted, Holly focused her power through her staff, and shot a bolt of magic directly at the Ice that had grown through the demon’s body.  
The Demon gasped, and then it melted back into the ground from where it had come. Holly let herself breathe deeply, closing her eyes in relief.  
She’d done it. She’d completed her Harrowing.  
“Maker’s Breath I can’t believe it!” Mouse cried out in delight. “We did it! Well I mean you did it, I just, sort of…”  
“We did it,” Holly smiled.  
“If only I didn’t have to stay here,” Mouse said, triumphant expression turning mournful. Then his eyes widen and a grin spread across his face. “Unless... yes of course!”  
He turned to Holly, looking up at her with a pitiful look in his eyes.  
“There might be a way I can return from here, but I’ll need your help,” he said enthusiastically. “If you let me return with you, I can live in a part of your mind. You wouldn’t know the difference, and I’d be able to offer advice! What do you think?”  
Holly didn’t answer for a moment, but her eyes remained fixed on the boy, her skin turned pale and her posture grew alert once again.  
“I’m beginning to think the Demon I just faced wasn’t the real test,” she said quietly.  
Mouse’s expression froze for an instant, and then he smiled again, eyes losing their focus as he did so.  
“You are smart,” he said, his smile growing wider as he spoke. His voice deepened as he declared, “SIMPLE KILLING IS A WARRIOR’S JOB. THE TRUE DANGERS OF THE FADE ARE PRECONCEPTIONS, CARELESS TRUST, PRIDE.”  
Mouse became encased by a harsh glowing light, which grew in intensity until Holly had to look away. When she looked back, Mouse, or whoever it was, looked… different.  
“KEEP YOUR WITS ABOUT YOU MAGE. TRUE TESTS… NEVER END.”  
And as the entity faded away, Holly closed her eyes. 

It would occur to Holly, in the weeks to come, whether the Harrowing had truly taught her anything she didn’t already know.


	6. A Friend's Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the distinction between Worthiness and Desperation is explained.

Waking up is nice  
for those first few moments  
Before you remember who and what you are.- A Softer World

It wasn’t that Jowan was spectacularly ugly or frightening, it’s just that his mournful expression and fidgety manner of movement was not an especially inviting sight to wake up to.  
“Jowan?” Holly asked thickly as her eyes cracked open wider.  
“You’re awake!” Jowan said with relief, “Looks like the First Enchanter was right.”  
“How long was I out?” Holly asked, sitting up slowly and carefully.  
“Since last night. It usually takes Mages a couple of days to finish their Harrowing, but you were in an out in no time at all!”  
“It only took one night?” Holly asked in shock, “It felt like I was there for hours!”  
“Most Harrowings take an entire day to complete properly, but you took less than an hour!” Jowan said proudly, as if he were somehow sharing Holly’s success. “One of the Templars kept going on about how it was the quickest cleanest Harrowing he’d ever seen.”  
Holly didn’t feel proud, particularly with Mouse’s warning ringing in her ears.  
True tests, never end…  
“I’m fine by the way Jowan,” Holly said, resting her unsteady feet on the cold stone floor, “thanks for asking.”  
“Well there was never any doubt that you’d be fine,” Jowan said, “It’s me I’m worried about at the moment.”  
There was a note of bitterness in his voice, and Holly looked up with some concern at Jowan.  
“What do you mean,” she asked.  
“I’m the oldest Apprentice here now,” Jowan explained, “I’m beginning to think that they’re never going to test me.”  
“I’m sure they’ll get to you soon,” Holly lied.  
Just as Jowan was neither completely ugly nor completely frightening, he was not completely incompetent. He could cast some basic spells, could read without speaking aloud, even participated in a few discussions amongst Apprentices about Fraternities. But his judgement remained just as unsound, and his name quickly became synonymous throughout the tower with mistakes borne of appalling judgement. From the way Irving smiled whenever Jowan’s name was mentioned, Holly didn’t think that he would be called forth for his Harrowing any time soon.  
“You just have to wait,” Holly reassured him, reasoning that this wasn’t entirely a lie. “I doubt they’ll be impressed by impatience.”  
“I might not have to wait at all, they might just decide I’m better off tranquil`,” Jowan sighed.  
Much as he was obviously fishing for sympathy, Holly knew that he wasn’t being entirely unreasonable.  
To be made Tranquil was the most terrifying threat that the Templars possessed, or so most Mages agreed. Many non-magical people seemed vaguely bemused by the emotionless monotone Mages who had suffered a severance between them and the Fade. They didn’t have emotions, aspirations, or even preferences, they just did whatever they were told.  
And a Mage who couldn’t pass their Harrowing, or didn’t want to, would suffer either tranquillity, or death.  
Once a Mage underwent their Harrowing, they could not be made Tranquil, so Holly was safe.  
But Jowan…  
“Irving wouldn’t let that happen,” Holly said firmly, as much for her benefit as Jowan’s.  
“Maybe you’re right,” Jowan said, sounding as uncertain as Holly felt. “I shouldn’t bother you about this, I was sent down to tell you that Irving wants to see you as soon as possible.  
“Right,” Holly nodded, steadily rising to her feet, “I better get there soon. Thank you Jowan.”  
Jowan nodded absent-mindedly, only looking at Holly when she put a hand on his arm. He smiled apologetically, and Holly set off for Irving’s office.

Many of the older Mages in the Fereldan tower noted that the First Enchanter’s Office often reflected the personality of its owner. For example, when First Enchanter Maxilion resided there two-hundred years hence, his office was lined with Religious Art from all four corners of Thedas, which aptly reflected both his religious background and fine taste for art. When First Enchanter Remille had taken residence, the office had been adorned in spectacularly garish Orlesian trappings, purchased from a Dwarven merchant in Halamshiral who seemed to take a special delight in sending Remille the very cheapest and tackiest merchandise he could find.  
And since First Enchanter Irving had attained the office, Fereldan art and dozens upon dozens of books and grimoires. It seemed that Irving had moved half of the Circle library into his office, and several Libetarian Enchanters grumbled that this was not far from the truth.  
Even as Holly entered Irving’s office, a couple of Apprentices were carting a collection of particularly old and neglected tomes, half of which appeared to be written in Tevinter.  
“I told you, he got us to cart these books because some idiot has been practicing blood magic,” one of them said while their back was turned to Holly.  
“Shut up!” the other Apprentice hissed, nodding towards Holly as they walked closer.  
Holly said nothing in reply, but held the door open for them as they entered Irving’s office.  
“Ah, Holly,” Irving said in his usual soft croaking voice. “Come in, there is someone you should meet.”  
The ‘Someone’ was a Rivanni Man, skin a dark brown and long black hair tied back in a tight ponytail. He was clad in Silverite armour which bore a griffin on his chestplate. A Sword and Silverite Dagger were strapped to his back, the handles worn with use. He reminded Holly of the Templars, the way his eyes quickly scanned her and held her steady gaze.  
He was, in short, a man who was continually on watch. But whatever he was on watch for, it clearly wasn’t Holly, as he relaxed into a reserved smile.  
“Nice to meet you Ser,” She said politely, bowing slightly.  
“The Pleasure is Mine Young Lady,” the man bowed. “I am Duncan of the Grey Wardens. The First Enchanter has told me all about you.”  
Comprehension dawned. A Grey Warden.  
Everyone learned about the Grey Wardens sooner or later, whether they were Heroes or Villains tended to differ. They were an order forged to fight Darkspawn, who were universally agreed to be the Villains of any given story. The Chantry taught that the Darkspawn were Tevinter Magisters who were corrupted after trying to breach the Golden City of the Maker, Tevinter claimed that they were always beneath the Earth and that the Dwarves had inadvertently released them.  
But truth be told, the Darkspawn made for spectacularly boring characters, the Grey Wardens were a different matter.  
A Grey Warden would defend entire cities, face down any monster, brave any peril and win to stop the Blights of Darkspawn.  
But then again, they would also leave entire settlements to die, say and promise anything that would get them more support, and commit any act of unspeakable horror they deemed necessary in order to stop the Blight. It was one thing for a secretive order to be willing to sacrifice anything in the execution of their duty.  
It was quite another to be one of the sacrifices.  
And while there were many stories of the bravery of the Wardens, they were never exactly Heroes. More of what you would call a last resort.  
Still, this one seemed a particularly amiable last resort.  
"Well I hope that you aren't here on official business," Holly quipped, realising too late that this was a rather tactless pun considering it might actually be true.  
"In a way," Duncan said with practiced casualness, "We believe that an Archdemon has been released by the Darkspawn, and that another Blight is beginning in the Southern Kokari Wilds."  
"Duncan has already rallied King Cailan," Irving said solemnly, "And he has already recruited several Mages."  
"I don't suppose you would be interested in joining us?" Duncan said with a smile that made Holly doubt whether he was serious or not.  
"I'm afraid that I barely know any magic that would help you on the battlefield," Holly said, "I'd be more a burden than a help."  
"But I was told that you were an accomplished student of the Elementalist school," Duncan said with the same smile. "Surely such a talent for offensive magics would be of immeasurable benefit to us."  
"I'm afraid she is correct," Irving interrupted smoothly, "While her theoretical knowledge is excellent, her practical knowledge has been limited somewhat, as you might understand. Now that she is a fully fledged Mage of the Tower, her practical training can begin in earnest."  
"And besides which, we've already sent enough of our own to your war effort," Greigor snapped from the doorway.  
Irving adopted a rather dangerous smile, the same smile he always wore when he was about to quarrel with Greigor.  
"First Enchanter," she said, recognizing the signs," Should I take Duncan to his quarters?"  
"An excellent idea Holly," Irving murmured, before turning to Greigor and replying, "One of 'Our' own? I did not realize you felt such kinship with the Mages Greigor."  
"We'd better go," Holly said quietly to Duncan, "They'll be at this for hours now, and it's really no fun for anyone but them to be stuck in one of their arguments."  
"I see," said Duncan amiably. "Congratulations on surviving your Harrowing. It is not a rite that everyone survives so well."  
Holly briefly thought of Jowan, waiting sullenly for his chance to be called forward, and then of the Demon that had nearly baited her.  
"I still wonder if I did," she said, surprising herself.  
"I'm reminded of something I heard from a young woman who studied here many years ago. Many, many years ago. I think she said something to the effect of..."  
Duncan was cut off when a hesitant voice called out to Holly,  
"Apprentice Surana, you're awake.”  
Holly turned to see Cullen, a young Templar who Holly had talked with once or twice before. He was actually one of the nicer Templars in the tower, though the poor boy seemed a little nervous to be a Templar. He was always stammering and looking ill at ease, one could only speculate what he would do in the face of an enemy. Which was a shame, because if he tried to take a comb to his curled hair, he’d be quite a fetching young Knight in Shining Armour.  
“Thank you Cullen,” Holly said pleasantly.  
“I was there at the Harrowing actually,” he said, slowing building up confidence. “I was the one who would… have struck you… if you’d failed… but obviously you didn’t…”  
Cullen trailed off again, and Holly could only let the silence linger a moment longer.  
“Well, I’ll just keep doing what I was doing,” Holly said jovially, patting Cullen on his right pauldron.  
Cullen, for his own part, stood rictus still as the colour drained from his face.  
“Are all Templars so easily defeated?” Duncan asked when they were out of earshot.  
“Oh Cullen’s just a big softy,” Holly said dismissively. “He’ll learn how to shout properly one of these days.”  
As they descended on of the (many) staircases, Holly asked a question that had been bothering her for several minutes.  
“Are there any Mages in the Grey Wardens?”  
“Certainly,” Duncan said casually. “I visited this very tower with a Mage Grey Warden years ago. I believe she returned to the Circle after some… difficulties.” He looked uncomfortable, as if he shouldn’t have this last fact.  
“I thought that the Grey Wardens served for life?” Holly asked, aware that she wasn’t entirely certain herself.  
“This is usually the case,” Duncan said smoothly, “It is not a burden that is assumed lightly. But when a candidate is worthy or desperate enough, it can be a desirable position.”  
“Desperate?” said Holly with a raised eyebrow.  
“A poor choice of words,” Duncan said, “Men and Women sentenced to execution can be inducted into the Grey Wardens through the Rite of Conscription. It allows us to bolster our numbers, and the new conscripts generally prefer it to their prior fate.”  
Holly had the unerring feeling that Duncan was used to fielding these sorts of answers, and that he was carefully observing her own reactions.  
“I might like to take you up on your offer,” Holly said, adopting her own kind of forced casualness. “Nothing much would change, I’d still be tied down to a militaristic order, but at least I’d get out in the fresh air more often.”  
Duncan stared at Holly carefully for a while, and Holly was suddenly aware that beneath the controlled and easy-going demeanour, there was a dangerously sharp intellect.  
“I would not earnestly ask you to join us so soon,” Duncan said carefully after he finally broke eye contact, “You should be sure of what you’re giving up first. But I would be happy to establish a correspondence with you, maybe in time you will join us.”  
Holly nodded, content that she had at least broken his casual demeanour for a moment.  
They finally approached the guest quarters, whose overabundance in Chantry bric-a-brac may have been meant to distinguish the Arcane surroundings.  
“How did you join the Grey Wardens?” Holly said as Duncan opened the door. “Were you Worthy, or Desperate?”  
Duncan smiled, and said,  
“That’s not for me to decide. Thank you Mage Surana, congratulations on the completion of your harrowing.”  
The door shut, and Holly walked away with her mind buzzing with activity, which usually only happened when she was happy, or in the middle of solving a difficult puzzle.

For the rest of the morning, Holly set about the business of moving her possessions to the Mage quarters. It shouldn’t have taken very long, but some damn fool had decided to house the Mages several floors up. And as sensible as it might have been to create some kind of spell to travel quickly between floors, Chantry law forbid any enchantment to the Tower itself. And since all of the other Apprentices were still expected to attend class, Holly was left to carry everything up herself.  
But the job was finally done, and Holly was now interred in a dark room that had a rather elderly bookcase and a wonderfully comfortable bed.  
As she left the room however, she spied Jowan nervously fritting about in the hallway outside of the Mage’s Quarter.  
“Jowan?” Holly asked in concern. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”  
“I need to talk to you,” Jowan hissed, cupping his hands to his mouth.  
“Why are you whispering like that?” Holly said bluntly, “It’s incredibly noticeable.”  
Jowan looked at her madly for a moment, then waved her over to him with pleading eyes.  
Sighing in annoyance, Holly complied.  
“What Jowan? If you’ve been accused of collusion with Anders again, I swear I’m going to…”  
“They’re going to make me Tranquil!” Jowan said in a strained voice, on the verge of hysterical panic.  
Holly sobered immediately, and suddenly felt panic of her own at Jowan’s expression.  
“No,” she said reflexively, “They can’t. I mean, you can’t know that Jowan.”  
“The Templars have been talking about it all week,” Jowan said, “And I know someone who’s seen the order on Irving’s desk firsthand!”  
He seemed to be holding his breath waiting for Holly’s answer, and Holly knew better than to assume that Jowan being made Tranquil was an impossibility.  
“Who is this person?” Holly asked after a moment’s consideration.  
Jowan finally took a deep breath in relief, and said,  
“Follow me.”


	7. A Pragmatic Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jowan tells the truth, and Holly makes a necessary choice.

You are never so low   
that you deserve   
to be lower  
\- Emily Horne and Joey Comeau, A Softer World

Holly had never much liked the Chantry wing of the tower. If pressed she would mumble phrases from the chant of light, and certainly would never dream of denying other people the right to believe. But there was something almost poisonous about the Chantry wing itself. She’d known many fine Chantry Sisters, and a handful of horrible ones, and even they seemed to stay away from the poky smoke filled room if they could. The smell of damp was especially strong here, and many Mages noted that books kept in there overnight seemed to become stained with… something.   
As a consequence, there was almost no one in there when Holly and Jowan entered. In the corner was Apprentice Chora, who continually prayed to be made Tranquil for the sin of possessing magical abilities. And by the Statue of Maferath in penitence was a Chantry Initiate who Holly had seen around occasionally.   
“All right,” Jowan said in relief, “We’re safe.”  
“Jowan,” Holly said, “there’s literally a Chantry Initiate right beside you.”  
But while Holly had voiced this concern, the Initiate had run up to Jowan, smiled radiantly, and entwined her right hand in Jowan’s left.   
“Oh,” Holly said softly, feeling several pieces of a puzzle falling into place.   
“Holly,” Jowan said breathlessly, “This is Lily.”  
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Lily said earnestly.   
“And I…”Holly tried to think of any kind of accidental slip or hint from Jowan and drew blank, “Have hear absolutely nothing about you.”  
“So Jowan has kept us a secret,” Lily beamed at Jowan proudly, hardly a normal reaction to being told you’d never been heard of before.   
“I am genuinely impressed,” Holly said earnestly.   
“Thank you both so much,” Jowan said drily, then in a more urgent tone said, “Lily, I told Holly about what’s going to happen to me.”   
“It’s true,” Lilly said, her smile withering away, “I saw the order on Irving’s desk myself when I was assisting Knight Commander Greigor. They can’t make Jowan tranquil!”  
She said the last statement with zeal usually reserved for Deities, there was no room for doubt there.   
“But why would they make you Tranquil now?” Holly asked, desperately trying to find some kind of excuse for this nightmare to be proven false.   
“They think I’ve been practicing Blood Magic,” Jowan said despondently, as if the very notion was insultingly impossible.   
There was a pause, a small yet deeply uncomfortable pause before Holly said:  
“That’s insane! You’d know better to use Blood Magic!”  
Except Jowan would. He really would try and use blood magic and assume no one would find out about it.   
But Jowan was Holly’s oldest friend, and we are given to exempt our close friends and loved ones from common weaknesses or faults, more for our sake than theirs.   
“Then what can we do about it?” Holly asked fervently. “I could beg Irving to let you pass your harrowing, you’d pass no problem if we cram for a few nights…”  
“Irving was the one who signed the order,” Jowan said desperately, “The only thing I can do is run away!”  
“But they’ll track you using your Phylactery,” Holly said, before being interrupted by Lily.   
“Not if we can destroy it. It’s only a small vial of blood, all we need to do is smash it against the ground. I even know the way in to the storage floors and how to get past the first door.”  
“Oh. Well. Good!” Holly said, relief trickling through her. “I assume the term ‘first door’ means there’s a second door?”  
Here Lily’s face fell, as she said,   
“Yes. The second one can only be unlocked by keys that First Enchanter Irving and Knight Commander Greigor keep on their person at all times, it would be impossible to grab both in time.”  
Holly thought about this.   
“The Tower walls are fortified with both magic and the finest masonry outside of Orzammar, there’s no way we can break through it.”  
“But the doors are weaker,” Jowan pointed out. “The hinges are near rusted through.”  
“A strong application of force then,” Holly concluded, “But neither of us can cast a spell that strong.”  
“Isn’t there some kind of magical device or wand we could use?” Lily pointed out.   
“Maybe,” Jowan said, looking at the ceiling as if the answers had been written there by a particularly helpful Mage. “Maybe an Invocation of Earthen Grasp?”  
“We want to blow down the door, not shake the foundations of the entire tower,” Holly pointed out. “What about a Rod of Fire? That might do the trick.”  
“That…” Holly gave Jowan’s suggestion the usual checklist of possible pitfalls common to Jowan’s ideas, “Actually might work. We just need to get from the Requisition store.”  
“Alright,” Lily said brightly, “So we have a plan. How do we get something from the Requisition store?"  
"One of us gets a permission sheet signed by an Enchanter, then we take it to whoever is on Requisition duty.”  
“You absolutely need signed permission?” Lily asked.   
“They’re not so fond of the idea of Apprentices borrowing Rods of Fire without a good reason,” Jowan said, “And besides, it’s always a Tranquil who’s on duty, and they couldn’t bend the rules if they tried.”  
“So which one of us should do it?” Holly asked.   
“It has to be you,” Jowan said firmly, “I’m already under suspicion, and Lily could never get away with it.”  
“Ah,” Holly said, before saying with considerably more confidence than she truly possessed, “Well that shouldn’t be any problem. I’ll weasel some kind of favour out of an Enchanter. See you again soo…”  
She was interrupted by an unexpected hug from Lily, who careened into Holly so fast she nearly fell over.   
“Thank you,” Lily whispered, before letting Holly go.   
Holly wasn’t sure how to respond for a few seconds, then just smiled uncertainly and walked away as Jowan and Lily returned to holding hands. 

It was oft remarked that Templars where everywhere you looked when you explicitly didn’t want to see them. And while Templars hardly lined the walls as Holly walked up to Irving’s office, there did seem an unusual number of Templars who looked out from alcoves and hidden corners.   
Holly had to remind herself that she wasn’t currently doing anything wrong. Walking through the halls of the tower was perfectly acceptable behaviour for a fully qualified Mage.   
Walking to the Archmage’s quarters was just as legitimate a pursuit, probably even more so.   
Holly had nothing to hide from the Templars.   
Which didn’t mean she had nothing to feel guilty about.   
She slowed her pace as she approached Irving’s office, feeling as if her feet were being weighed down. After a very brief internal battle, she inhaled deeply and rapped on Irving’s door.   
“Come in,” Irving’s weary voice rang out. The many years as First Enchanter had not been kind to Irving, and though it was possible that he was lying about the depth of his frailty, Holly knew for a fact that he took a generous helping of Elfroot with his tea nowadays.   
“Ah, Holly,” Irving said in a brighter voice as Holly entered the room, “I’m glad to see you.”  
“Thank you Irving,” Holly said, trying not to fidget.   
“I forgot earlier,” Irving, said, rising from his chair with some difficulty, “I was supposed to give you something.”  
“Oh you don’t have to…” Holly began, stopping short when she saw what Irving was carrying.   
It was a Golden Robe, fitted in the style and Cut of a qualified and Harrowed Mage. On top of it was a ring of twisted gold and Iron, which was fitted on a chain.   
“These are your Mage Robes, and your Ring of Study,” Irving intoned, “Presented to you as a sign of your accomplishments and to distinguish you as a worthy student of the Circle.”  
Holly took the robes with both hands, and was left staring at them for a few moments. Irving was busying himself with a nearby cabinet, and said in a less formal voice,   
“It is also traditional for the Mage’s Tutor to present a small token to them in congratulations. Amulets or heirlooms are usually acceptable, but I have something a little more practical in mind for you.”  
He emerged with a polished metal Staff, as Tall as Holly’s shoulder and apparently freshly minted.   
It was also an exact double of the staff Holly had received from Valour in her Harrowing.   
Holly said nothing, the terror of what she had come here to do being dislodged by the terror of this new development.   
“Is the balance correct?” Irving asked enthusiastically, and Holly swallowed her terror to say,   
“Yes, yes it’s perfect. It feels like a dream. But surprisingly light…”  
“Well yes,” Irving said sheepishly, before leaning in to whisper to Holly, “We put weights in all of the training staves. A useful way of building our Mage’s strength without alarming the Templars. And your arms should not ache when you wield it now.”  
Holly smiled at this, and then took another deep breath.   
“First Enchanter,” she said with as much control as she could muster, “Jowan thinks that he will never be called to his Harrowing. Is he right?”  
There was a long and appraising pause, and Irving sighed as he eased himself back into his chair.   
“What do you think?” he asked mildly.   
“About what?”   
“About Jowan’s chances of undergoing his Harrowing. Do you think he is ready now? Do you think he will ever be ready?”  
Holly thought about her own Harrowing, about the deception and dangers that had challenged her. And then she thought about Jowan, who acted on impulse and whose mistakes were tragically unwieldy.   
“Maybe he’s not ready now,” Holly admitted, “But the alternative…”  
“Innocent Mages have nothing to fear,” Irving said in a quiet voice.   
Holly had reflected in the past that Irving was not a very nice man. She sincerely believed he was a good man, but nobody had ever attained the post of First Enchanter by being perfectly nice all the time. You needed empathy, diplomacy, and a natural talent for cruelty.   
“He’s not guilty of anything,” Holly said in a quiet voice of her own, “Certainly not of Blood Magic!”  
“Holly…” Irving said wearily.   
“No, I won’t believe it,” Holly interrupted him, “I know he’s not the best student, but even he wouldn’t do something that stupid! Please First Enchanter, keep him an Apprentice forever, but don’t make him Tranquil, it would destroy him.”  
Irving sighed, and Holly later liked to think that it was a sigh of genuine regret.   
“There are witnesses. Greigor has made his opinions on the matter clear, and I have a duty,” Irving stood up again and walked to his window.   
Holly tried to summon some kind of retort or find some gap in this argument, but there was nothing to be said. There was only one chance left.   
“I’m sorry Irving,” she said, drying her eyes. “You’re right. And I have a duty too.”  
Irving turned to face Holly and smiled at this.   
Holly sighed heavily, and withdrew the permission sheet for a Rod of Fire.   
“Jowan is going to try and break into the Dungeons and destroy his Phylactery at midnight, so that he can escape,” she said, “But he needs this permission slip for a Rod of Fire to complete the plan.”  
Irving said nothing for a few moments, then carefully plucked the permission sheet from Holly and signed it on his desk.   
“The Circle thanks you for your service,” he said politely, before adding in a more personable voice, “You’ve done the right thing Holly. I’m proud of you.”   
Holly smiled, then wiped a tear away from her eyes, and left Irving’s office.   
“Irving?” she asked as she was leaving.   
“Yes Holly?”  
“Thank you Irving,” she looked down at her robes and staff as she said so, “For everything.”  
Irving smiled a warm smile, and for a few moments he looked like a younger and happier man. 

Holly for her own part, closed the door to Irving’s study, and then did not run. She walked, calmly and briskly into her new quarters. There she dressed in her new robes, put on her Ring of Study, and grasped her staff in hand before casting the minor enchantment that shrunk it down to a more inconspicuous and manageable size. Then she politely procured a Rod of Fire from Owain, the Tranquil who ran the storerooms.   
With this in hand, she walked without any apparent panic or distress to the Chapel, where she took Jowan and Lily by the arms and left without once breaking her calm stride.   
“Holly have you got…” Jowan began  
“Yes I’ve got the Rod of Fire, now it’s time to go, before anyone suspects something.”  
“But it’s barely gone Six!” Lily pointed out.  
“All the better,” Holly replied without turning her head.   
If all went according to plan, she had six hours to get Jowan out of here, she could take the fallout later.   
“Whatever happens Jowan,” Holly said, barely choking back tears, “You’re getting out of here tonight.”  
She wasn’t wrong.


	8. A Pragmatic Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jowan tells the truth, and Holly makes a necessary choice.

You are never so low  
that you deserve  
to be lower  
\- Emily Horne and Joey Comeau, A Softer World  
  
Holly had never much liked the Chantry wing of the tower. If pressed she would mumble phrases from the chant of light, and certainly would never dream of denying other people the right to believe. But there was something almost poisonous about the Chantry wing itself. She’d known many fine Chantry Sisters, and a handful of horrible ones, and even they seemed to stay away from the poky smoke filled room if they could. The smell of damp was especially strong here, and many Mages noted that books kept in there overnight seemed to become stained with… something.  
As a consequence, there was almost no one in there when Holly and Jowan entered. In the corner was Apprentice Chora, who continually prayed to be made Tranquil for the sin of possessing magical abilities. And by the Statue of Maferath in penitence was a Chantry Initiate who Holly had seen around occasionally.  
“All right,” Jowan said in relief, “We’re safe.”  
“Jowan,” Holly said, “there’s literally a Chantry Initiate right beside you.”  
But while Holly had voiced this concern, the Initiate had run up to Jowan, smiled radiantly, and entwined her right hand in Jowan’s left.  
“Oh,” Holly said softly, feeling several pieces of a puzzle falling into place.  
“Holly,” Jowan said breathlessly, “This is Lily.”  
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Lily said earnestly.  
“And I…”Holly tried to think of any kind of accidental slip or hint from Jowan and drew blank, “Have hear absolutely nothing about you.”  
“So Jowan has kept us a secret,” Lily beamed at Jowan proudly, hardly a normal reaction to being told you’d never been heard of before.  
“I am genuinely impressed,” Holly said earnestly.  
“Thank you both so much,” Jowan said drily, then in a more urgent tone said, “Lily, I told Holly about what’s going to happen to me.”  
“It’s true,” Lilly said, her smile withering away, “I saw the order on Irving’s desk myself when I was assisting Knight Commander Greigor. They can’t make Jowan tranquil!”  
She said the last statement with zeal usually reserved for Deities, there was no room for doubt there.  
“But why would they make you Tranquil now?” Holly asked, desperately trying to find some kind of excuse for this nightmare to be proven false.  
“They think I’ve been practicing Blood Magic,” Jowan said despondently, as if the very notion was insultingly impossible.  
There was a pause, a small yet deeply uncomfortable pause before Holly said:  
“That’s insane! You’d know better to use Blood Magic!”  
Except Jowan would. He really would try and use blood magic and assume no one would find out about it.  
But Jowan was Holly’s oldest friend, and we are given to exempt our close friends and loved ones from common weaknesses or faults, more for our sake than theirs.  
“Then what can we do about it?” Holly asked fervently. “I could beg Irving to let you pass your harrowing, you’d pass no problem if we cram for a few nights…”  
“Irving was the one who signed the order,” Jowan said desperately, “The only thing I can do is run away!”  
“But they’ll track you using your Phylactery,” Holly said, before being interrupted by Lily.  
“Not if we can destroy it. It’s only a small vial of blood, all we need to do is smash it against the ground. I even know the way in to the storage floors and how to get past the first door.”  
“Oh. Well. Good!” Holly said, relief trickling through her. “I assume the term ‘first door’ means there’s a second door?”  
Here Lily’s face fell, as she said,  
“Yes. The second one can only be unlocked by keys that First Enchanter Irving and Knight Commander Greigor keep on their person at all times, it would be impossible to grab both in time.”  
Holly thought about this.  
“The Tower walls are fortified with both magic and the finest masonry outside of Orzammar, there’s no way we can break through it.”  
“But the doors are weaker,” Jowan pointed out. “The hinges are near rusted through.”  
“A strong application of force then,” Holly concluded, “But neither of us can cast a spell that strong.”  
“Isn’t there some kind of magical device or wand we could use?” Lily pointed out.  
“Maybe,” Jowan said, looking at the ceiling as if the answers had been written there by a particularly helpful Mage. “Maybe an Invocation of Earthen Grasp?”  
“We want to blow down the door, not shake the foundations of the entire tower,” Holly pointed out. “What about a Rod of Fire? That might do the trick.”  
“That…” Holly gave Jowan’s suggestion the usual checklist of possible pitfalls common to Jowan’s ideas, “Actually might work. We just need to get from the Requisition store.”  
“Alright,” Lily said brightly, “So we have a plan. How do we get something from the Requisition store?"  
"One of us gets a permission sheet signed by an Enchanter, then we take it to whoever is on Requisition duty.”  
“You absolutely need signed permission?” Lily asked.  
“They’re not so fond of the idea of Apprentices borrowing Rods of Fire without a good reason,” Jowan said, “And besides, it’s always a Tranquil who’s on duty, and they couldn’t bend the rules if they tried.”  
“So which one of us should do it?” Holly asked.  
“It has to be you,” Jowan said firmly, “I’m already under suspicion, and Lily could never get away with it.”  
“Ah,” Holly said, before saying with considerably more confidence than she truly possessed, “Well that shouldn’t be any problem. I’ll weasel some kind of favour out of an Enchanter. See you again soo…”  
She was interrupted by an unexpected hug from Lily, who careened into Holly so fast she nearly fell over.  
“Thank you,” Lily whispered, before letting Holly go.  
Holly wasn’t sure how to respond for a few seconds, then just smiled uncertainly and walked away as Jowan and Lily returned to holding hands.  
  
It was oft remarked that Templars where everywhere you looked when you explicitly didn’t want to see them. And while Templars hardly lined the walls as Holly walked up to Irving’s office, there did seem an unusual number of Templars who looked out from alcoves and hidden corners.  
Holly had to remind herself that she wasn’t currently doing anything wrong. Walking through the halls of the tower was perfectly acceptable behaviour for a fully qualified Mage.  
Walking to the Archmage’s quarters was just as legitimate a pursuit, probably even more so.  
Holly had nothing to hide from the Templars.  
Which didn’t mean she had nothing to feel guilty about.  
She slowed her pace as she approached Irving’s office, feeling as if her feet were being weighed down. After a very brief internal battle, she inhaled deeply and rapped on Irving’s door.  
“Come in,” Irving’s weary voice rang out. The many years as First Enchanter had not been kind to Irving, and though it was possible that he was lying about the depth of his frailty, Holly knew for a fact that he took a generous helping of Elfroot with his tea nowadays.  
“Ah, Holly,” Irving said in a brighter voice as Holly entered the room, “I’m glad to see you.”  
“Thank you Irving,” Holly said, trying not to fidget.  
“I forgot earlier,” Irving, said, rising from his chair with some difficulty, “I was supposed to give you something.”  
“Oh you don’t have to…” Holly began, stopping short when she saw what Irving was carrying.  
It was a Golden Robe, fitted in the style and Cut of a qualified and Harrowed Mage. On top of it was a ring of twisted gold and Iron, which was fitted on a chain.  
“These are your Mage Robes, and your Ring of Study,” Irving intoned, “Presented to you as a sign of your accomplishments and to distinguish you as a worthy student of the Circle.”  
Holly took the robes with both hands, and was left staring at them for a few moments. Irving was busying himself with a nearby cabinet, and said in a less formal voice,  
“It is also traditional for the Mage’s Tutor to present a small token to them in congratulations. Amulets or heirlooms are usually acceptable, but I have something a little more practical in mind for you.”  
He emerged with a polished metal Staff, as Tall as Holly’s shoulder and apparently freshly minted.  
It was also an exact double of the staff Holly had received from Valour in her Harrowing.  
Holly said nothing, the terror of what she had come here to do being dislodged by the terror of this new development.  
“Is the balance correct?” Irving asked enthusiastically, and Holly swallowed her terror to say,  
“Yes, yes it’s perfect. It feels like a dream. But surprisingly light…”  
“Well yes,” Irving said sheepishly, before leaning in to whisper to Holly, “We put weights in all of the training staves. A useful way of building our Mage’s strength without alarming the Templars. And your arms should not ache when you wield it now.”  
Holly smiled at this, and then took another deep breath.  
“First Enchanter,” she said with as much control as she could muster, “Jowan thinks that he will never be called to his Harrowing. Is he right?”  
There was a long and appraising pause, and Irving sighed as he eased himself back into his chair.  
“What do you think?” he asked mildly.  
“About what?”  
“About Jowan’s chances of undergoing his Harrowing. Do you think he is ready now? Do you think he will ever be ready?”  
Holly thought about her own Harrowing, about the deception and dangers that had challenged her. And then she thought about Jowan, who acted on impulse and whose mistakes were tragically unwieldy.  
“Maybe he’s not ready now,” Holly admitted, “But the alternative…”  
“Innocent Mages have nothing to fear,” Irving said in a quiet voice.  
Holly had reflected in the past that Irving was not a very nice man. She sincerely believed he was a good man, but nobody had ever attained the post of First Enchanter by being perfectly nice all the time. You needed empathy, diplomacy, and a natural talent for cruelty.  
“He’s not guilty of anything,” Holly said in a quiet voice of her own, “Certainly not of Blood Magic!”  
“Holly…” Irving said wearily.  
“No, I won’t believe it,” Holly interrupted him, “I know he’s not the best student, but even he wouldn’t do something that stupid! Please First Enchanter, keep him an Apprentice forever, but don’t make him Tranquil, it would destroy him.”  
Irving sighed, and Holly later liked to think that it was a sigh of genuine regret.  
“There are witnesses. Greigor has made his opinions on the matter clear, and I have a duty,” Irving stood up again and walked to his window.  
Holly tried to summon some kind of retort or find some gap in this argument, but there was nothing to be said. There was only one chance left.  
“I’m sorry Irving,” she said, drying her eyes. “You’re right. And I have a duty too.”  
Irving turned to face Holly and smiled at this.  
Holly sighed heavily, and withdrew the permission sheet for a Rod of Fire.  
“Jowan is going to try and break into the Dungeons and destroy his Phylactery at midnight, so that he can escape,” she said, “But he needs this permission slip for a Rod of Fire to complete the plan.”  
Irving said nothing for a few moments, then carefully plucked the permission sheet from Holly and signed it on his desk.  
“The Circle thanks you for your service,” he said politely, before adding in a more personable voice, “You’ve done the right thing Holly. I’m proud of you.”  
Holly smiled, then wiped a tear away from her eyes, and left Irving’s office.  
“Irving?” she asked as she was leaving.  
“Yes Holly?”  
“Thank you Irving,” she looked down at her robes and staff as she said so, “For everything.”  
Irving smiled a warm smile, and for a few moments he looked like a younger and happier man.  
  
Holly for her own part, closed the door to Irving’s study, and then did not run. She walked, calmly and briskly into her new quarters. There she dressed in her new robes, put on her Ring of Study, and grasped her staff in hand before casting the minor enchantment that shrunk it down to a more inconspicuous and manageable size. Then she politely procured a Rod of Fire from Owain, the Tranquil who ran the storerooms.  
With this in hand, she walked without any apparent panic or distress to the Chapel, where she took Jowan and Lily by the arms and left without once breaking her calm stride.  
“Holly have you got…” Jowan began  
“Yes I’ve got the Rod of Fire, now it’s time to go, before anyone suspects something.”  
“But it’s barely gone Six!” Lily pointed out.  
“All the better,” Holly replied without turning her head.  
If all went according to plan, she had six hours to get Jowan out of here, she could take the fallout later.  
“Whatever happens Jowan,” Holly said, barely choking back tears, “You’re getting out of here tonight.”  
She wasn’t wrong.


	9. Time Is Scarce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stone she is, and stone she will remain, while the Foci is awoken and traitors overplay their hands.

Crowds used to freak me out  
Let’s see how they like it - Emily Horne and Joey Comeau, A Softer World

It was unnaturally cold in the depths of Drakon Tower. Granted Fereldan was hardly the sunniest place in Thedas, but it was never as cold as this Dungeon, even in the height of winter.   
“It must be magic that keeps this place so cold,” Holly said, thankful that her long robes protected her from the worst of the cold.   
“It’s for the Phylactery’s,” Lily said, rubbing her arms to warm them up. “Keeps the blood fresh.”  
“Charming,” Jowan managed through clattering teeth. “Is this the door we need?”  
“This is one of them, yes,” Lily said, “It needs a password and a spell to open.”  
“Which Spell?” Holly asked, yet another pit forming in her stomach.   
“Oh any spell will do,” Lily said with a wave of her hand, “And I already know the password.”  
“Greigor really needs to keep a better hold on information like this,” Holly said drily.   
Lily stepped forward to the door, and said:  
“Sword of the Maker, Tears of the Fade,”  
Holly extended her staff and fixed the image of expansive and flickering flames in her mind. Immediately a cone of flame burst forth from the tip of her staff, and the door swung open easily.   
They rushed forward to the next door, elated by their brief victory.   
“Alright, use the rod of Fire to melt the locks off!” Jowan said excitedly.   
Holly whipped out the Rod and pointed dramatically at the lock on the large wooden door before them…  
… and eventually lowered it when nothing happened.   
“Are you okay?” Lily asked.   
“Nothing is happening,” Holly said in dismay.   
Jowan flung his hands towards the door, and looked at them in confusion.   
“I can’t cast any magic here!”  
“It’s the runes!” Lily said, looking at the stonework on the edges of the doorway, “Those are Nullifying Runes! They must have been carved by Templars, nothing magical can occur here!”  
Holly fought to keep down a rising surge of panic bubbling through her throat. They didn’t have time to panic, they only had so long before Irving and Greigor came to find Jowan, which was assuming that some kind of alarm hadn’t been sounded when they entered.   
“Alright, that door isn’t going to work,” Holly said quickly, stuffing the rod of fire into a deep pocket. “What about that one back there?”  
They all looked to the left, at the empty hallway that ended with a flimsy looking door.   
“It might go anywhere,” Jowan pointed out.   
“It’s that, or Tranquillity,” Holly pointed out, and immediately set forth down the hallway.   
She could practically feel the dust in the air being pushed aside, clearly nobody had come along here in some time. The Suits of Armour weren’t coated in dust, which was odd, but who knew what kind of spells there were for everyday mundanities. Time was not on their side, and this looked like the best chance they had.  
Holly tried the door, and was delighted to see that it turned without any hindrance, apart from the rusted hinges.   
“Lily! Jowan!” Holly called out, “Give me a hand here!”  
With Lily and Jowan’s help (particularly Lily’s), the door was soon wrenched open. Holly and Jowan both took a break to rest with their hands on their knees, while Lily looked ahead into the darkness. “It might be a back way in,” she said doubtfully, “Or it might even lead into a room adjacent.”  
“Sounds good,” Jowan managed, standing back up. “Maybe we can still find a use for the Rod of Fire. Right Holly?”  
But Holly wasn’t listening to Jowan, she was looking at one of the suits of Armour.  
Who was looking back.  
Suddenly, Holly darted back and whipped out her staff, swinging it into the suit of Armour who had already raised its sword to parry her staff.   
Jowan cried out, and Lily pulled him into the hallway out of the path of the Suits of Armour.   
Holly thought fast, thinking through what kind of offensive spells she had at her disposal.   
Winter’s Grasp wouldn’t do much in this cold, it had already exacted its toll on the metal of the armour. But fire might reduce the pitted and cracked metal to molten slag… alternatively it might be shrugged off. Now a burst of lightning on the other hand…  
Holly visualized the crackling burning smell of lightning, aimed her staff at the Helmet of the suit, and let loose a bolt of lightning as the Suit’s sword rose in the air to be swung down.   
The effect was more comical than Holly had intended, the helmet flew off the body at high speed. But the entire suit of armour reverberated with a boom, and the cracks caused by the constant stress of cold spread even further. The sword clattered to the ground, and the suit of armour shook as it slowly staggered to the nearest wall.   
Holly thought she might faint, but the sight of Jowan’s petrified face roused her.   
“Come on,” she gasped, “We’re not done here yet.”

There were other suits of armour standing to attention in the lost hallway, but none of them attacked the group or showed any inclination of violence. Still, Holly kept a close watch on every one, and held her staff in both hands with a death grip.   
“There’s a door ahead,” Holly said, coming to a stop.   
“No suits of armour either side,” Jowan pointed out.   
“Any idea what might be down here?” Holly asked Lily.   
“I’m sorry, but I honestly have no idea,” Lily answered.   
Holly squared her shoulders and breathed deeply.   
“You two stay back,” she said, “I’ll go first.”  
“No, we can help!” Jowan protested.   
“I’m the best Mage here, and I have a staff,” Holly pointed out without a hint of modesty, “I’ll go first.”  
Neither Lily nor Jowan protested this, the cold seemed to sap whatever defiance they had. The metal of the door’s handle felt like it was burning, and Holly’s hands weren’t numb enough to block out the painful sensation.   
But eventually she pushed open the stiff door, and was struck by a wave of heat that seemed to fill every corner of her body. The room ahead was almost absurdly well lit, with flaming torches practically lining the walls.   
Holly looked around dazedly in the heat, and was relieved that nothing large or metallic was bearing down on her.   
“Alright guys, come on…” she trailed off when she turned and saw that Jowan and Lily had already rushed in and shut the door behind them.   
“What Travellers Disturb Me?”  
All three intruders turned to face a pitted and worn statue which seemed to be looking directly at them.  
“Maker’s Breath it talks!” Jowan exclaimed.   
“Are you going to attack us?” Holly asked, realizing the stupidity of the question was soon as she asked it.  
“No Child,” the statue said, voice emerging as an echo rather than a true vocalization. “I Mean You No Harm. I Was Once Named Eloni Zinovia.”  
“Right,” Holly said, curiosity overriding her anxiety, “A talking statue. Fantastic.”  
“I Was Not Always Thus,” Eloni said, “I Was Turned To Stone By Archon Valerius For The Crime Of Prophecy.”  
“That does sound like a typical Magister,” Lily commented drily.   
“I Prophesised That His House Would Fall. He Placed Me Outside His Holdings, And Bade Me To ‘Tell Your Lies To All That Pass’. But My Lord fell to his Enemy’s hand, and his House turned to ash as fire spread to all the world.”  
“I’m… Sorry to hear that,” Holly said, wondering which particular fire the statue was talking about.   
“Do Not Weep For Me Child,” Eloni said, in a tone that resembled reassurance as a pond resembles the ocean, “Stone They Made Me, And Stone I Am, Unfeeling And Unfeeling. And I Shall Endure Until The Maker Returns To Light Their Fires Again.”  
“Ambiguous Rubbish,” Jowan said dismissively, “I can do it too. ‘The Sun Grows Dark, but Lo! The Dawn is coming!’”  
“Well there’s not much else we can do with it,” Lily said, breaking away from the group and examining the room around them, “Not with time running out.”   
It was then that Holly remembered the time limit they were under, and what curiousity she felt for the strange statue evaporated under the heat of panic that suddenly overwhelmed her. The statue had fallen silent in any case, and after so long in isolation, it might not object to a return to silence.   
It was then that Holly felt a faint breeze of cold air enter the room, as if there was some kind of gap in the wall…  
She whipped around to see a bookcase, which seemed to have once survived a fire judging by its blackened condition.   
“Jowan,” Holly said urgently, rushing over to the bookcase. “Help me topple this over.”   
He did so, and now the draught of cold air was unmistakable. “There must be another room through that wall,” Holly said assuredly, “It might even lead to the hallway we were always meant to take, before the wand proved useless.”  
“It might not be useless now,” Jowan said, his attention caught be something just behind Holly, “Have a look at this!”   
Holly turned to see an unremarkable and aged statue of some kind of dog.   
“It’s Dalish,” Jowan said excitedly, “I read about these, in… well anyway, that orb that’s being held in the dog’s mouth, that’s a foci! It helps to strengthen magic, though nobody knows how they’re supposed to work. If you use the rod of fire with that…”  
Holly took a closer look at the Foci now, she could just about make out a sphere lined with strange carvings and lines, enclosed in the mouth of the Dog carving… no, it wasn’t a dog exactly, it looked more like a wolf…  
“Jowan are you sure this will work?” Lily asked, voice cracking from exhaustion.   
Jowan didn’t say anything in reply, just stood up and embraced Lily, who breathed deeply as she wrapped her own arms around him. Holly looked away, it was odd how something so chaste as a hug could demand such privacy.   
“If I can use the rod of fire, that should blow the wall apart,” Holly said, after a tactful pause. “Both of you stand clear, this is going to be…”  
“Fun?” Lily supplied.   
“Oh I’m sure it’ll be fun for someone,” Holly replied. “There’s probably someone out there whose idea of a good time is scraping off leftover apprentices from the roofs.”  
“Well you do here stories about McSweeney,” Jowan pointed out.   
Silence fell once more, as Holly drew the Rod of Fire, and carefully placed a hand on the Stone Wolf’s head. There was a strange sensation as she did so, a kind of buzzing energy that threatened to lash out at any second.   
Holly aimed the rod of fire at the wall, conjured the image of fire in her mind…

Far away on a high peak, an Elf with a the jawbone of a wolf hanging from his neck woke up. This would have appeared unremarkable to the average observer, which says a lot about average observers, as well as how hard this particular Elf had worked to appear unremarkable. 

… Holly opened her eyes, and struggled to piece together what was in front of her. There was a loud ringing in her ears, and there was something sticky running down her face. Jowan was shouting excitedly at something, and had hopped through a hole.   
And then the cold hit Holly, waking her up as surely as a bucket of water might.   
“Wazzzat,” she managed, agonizingly sitting herself up.   
“It worked!” Lily said, before giving Holly a hand up, “Are you alright?”  
“Yeah,” Holly said, speech returning to her.   
She turned her gaze to the wolf with the orb in its mouth, and saw that the orb crackled with green light, which faded until the orb appeared innocently inert again.   
“I don’t think I’ll be touching that again though,” Holly said ruefully. “Come on, let’s find Jowan, and get out of here.”  
They both staggered through the hole in the wall, taking care to not touch the red hot remnants of the wall.   
The room beyond was colder than any other room in the strange basement of Drakon Tower, and every bit as ornate and magnificent as the rooms above. Phials of blood lined the walls, and Holly felt her blood churn. A Blood Mage could have a lot of fun around here, which, now that Holly thought about it, was probably why it was so forbidden.   
“Found it!” Jowan said triumphantly, holding aloft a small vial of blood high in the air.   
“Such a small thing,” he said, gazing at it with a strange expression. It was almost totally disconnected from his relieved voice, and twisted his face in unfamiliar ways.   
But then the vial was dropped onto the stone floor, where it promptly shattered.   
“All right, Holly said, waves of relief overriding her concerns, “Time to go, before anyone can catch us. With any luck it will still be light.”   
Jowan and Lily seemed somewhat surprised by her urgency, but nonetheless followed her out of the Phylactery storeroom, to return to the levels above. 

Holly noted with relief that it was indeed still light outside, which meant it couldn’t be later than Eight. They’d done the impossible with time to spare.   
“Sweet Maker I can’t believe we just did that,” Holly said, hysterical glee overtaking her, “Do you two know how you’re getting to shore?”  
“Carrol the Ferryman owes me some serious favours, and we’ve got a disguise ready for Jowan,” Lily said breathlessly, “Are you sure you’ll be okay? You might be in serious trouble.”   
“I’ll be fine,” Holly said carelessly, “There’s nothing connecting me to this, and they won’t ever know…”  
Holly had just opened the final door to the ground level, and the sight before her knocked the breath from her lungs with even more ferocity than the cold downstairs had.   
They were surrounded by Templars, who formed a solid wall of metal with their shields at the ready. Knight Commander Greigor stood before them in full armour, and Irving stood beside him.   
Holly’s head swam, how could they possibly have known? She’d said midnight, why would they be here so soon?  
“An Apostate, and a Chantry Initiate,” Greigor said, disgust dripping from his every word. “You were right Irving, I can only promise that both will be punished harshly.”  
“I have Holly to thank for the information,” Irving said, nodding at Holly.”  
Holly whipped around to see Jowan’s shocked face and Lily’s tearful expression of anger focused on her.   
“I didn’t… I told…” she struggled, terror strangling her words.   
“It’s just a good thing that we got to this Apostate before he could escape the Tower,” Greigor said, steadily advancing upon Jowan. “Tranquillity for you, and as for you Initiate, the only kindness I can offer you for your part in this betrayal, is a sentence to Aenor!”  
“No,” Lily whimpered, backing away slowly, “Not the Mage’s Prison!”  
Holly wanted to say something, or even to cast some kind of spell at Greigor, but was silenced by the look of fury that crossed Jowan’s face. He strode forth in front of Lily, and glared at Greigor without a trace of fear or indecision. That was when Greigor drew his sword, and Jowan reached into the pockets of his robe.   
“I WON’T LET YOU TOUCH HER!” Jowan roared, drawing a dagger from his robes and slamming it’s blade into his left palm. Blood gushed from the wound, and Holly felt her knees buckle under invisible pressure. A rushing pain flooded her head, and with blood rushing through her eyes and throat choked with tears, Holly passed out for the second time that day. 

She took significantly longer to wake up this time, and when she opened her eyes it was to see the cool blue light of healing magic. Then Irving’s face appeared, genuine concern followed by palpable relief as she slowly awoke.   
“Ah, you are alright,” Irving said, helping Holly sit up, “I’m afraid that some of the Templars have not survived, this is to be expected from a fledgling Blood Mage.”  
“A Blood Mage,” Holly said in disbelief, “A Damned Blood Mage. And I believed him!”  
Tears came to her eyes, and she concentrated on controlling her ragged breathing before she burst into racking sobs.   
“And you destroyed his Phylactery,” Greigor said, scowling, “Now we have no way to track him!”  
It was then that Holly saw the sea of Mages surrounding the scene, kept away by a few Templars who looked like they were on the verge of panic. Several of the Mages were muttering, even more were looking at Holly warily.   
Her name would be mud in the tower from now on, either the dissident who helped a Blood Mage escape or the Snitch who framed a close friend. The truth of the matter was irrelevant, nothing could disprove the rumours that would buzz through the tower before the night was out.   
“You!” Greigor barked at Lily, “What did he say to you?”  
“He said that he learned it to become a more powerful Mage,” Lily said haltingly, tears streaming down her face, “And that he… that’s what he said. He lied to me. He lied to all of us.”  
Holly drew herself to her feet, and moved towards Greigor.  
“Knight-Commander, she didn’t know he was a Blood Mage,” Holly said urgently, “She thought that he was…”  
“Don’t think that you’ve escaped your own punishment!” Greigor barked, “You were as much a part of this as her.”  
“My Apprentice was the one who brought this to our attention,” Irving said, rage giving his quiet voice an edge that drowned out the murmurs that were beginning.   
“I am aware of that, but you Apprentice was still instrumental in allowing the Apostate to escape!” Greigor shot back, turning to face the First Enchanter, “Should she escape with no consequences whatsoever?”  
“Excuse me First Enchanter, Knight Commander.” Duncan pushed his way through the crowd and made his way towards the feuding men, “I have a request to make.”  
Both Irving and Greigor looked surprised at the interruption, but Irving recovered faster and asked,   
“How might we serve the Grey Wardens?”  
“Since there is some question over the fate of this young Mage,” Duncan said, looking at Holly while he said it, “I wondered if I might invoke the Rite of Conscription, and induct them into the Grey Wardens.”  
Silence greeted this suggestion, before Irving said,   
“Oh I don’t know…”  
“Yes,” Holly interrupted Irving, “Yes I would like to join. It would be an honour to serve with you.”  
“Then I’d advise you to gather your belongings, as we will leave before Night falls.”  
“You can’t be serious!” Greigor protested.  
“I’m afraid he can,” Irving said, “It is the right of all Grey Wardens to do so. And I would have thought you had more important things to worry about, such as an Apostate on the loose?”  
Greigor didn’t move at first, just staring at Irving as a muscle under his left eyelid twitched.   
“Templars!” Greigor bellowed, “About March! We are to catch this Apostate immediately!”  
And with that, the Templars, ran out of the room, with Greigor dragging Lily out by the arm.   
Holly caught Lily’s eye one last time before she left, and then they disappeared through the corridors of the tower.   
Holly would never see Lily again. 

It didn’t take Holly long to get her belongings together, she had never really unpacked them to settle into her new room. Duncan had said that there would be uniforms waiting for her at the Grey Warden Camp in the Kokari Wilds, so for now she was still in her Golden Robes. She spent longer than she intended to in the Library, taking one last chance to take in small details that she never took the time to notice. The crack in the window just above the Ancient Languages catalogue, the different faces adorning the fresco around the fireplaces, the hidden caches of Alcohol that every Templar knew about but never touched. It might have been a gloomy and restrictive prison, but it had been home after a fashion.   
But Holly couldn’t stay, not after what she’d done. It wasn’t just that no one would trust her, she couldn’t trust anyone else. Jowan and Irving had lied to her, and if she couldn’t trust her friends or her Teacher, then could she really trust anything about the Circle? The Grey Wardens might   
Before she left, Irving approached her at the front door of Drakon Tower.   
“I am truly sorry for what has happened to you,” Irving said, sounding wearier than ever, “I wish there was someway for you to stay at the Tower.”  
Holly said nothing at first, then met Irving’s eyes and asked,   
“How did you know to wait for me and Jowan?”  
“I didn’t become First Enchanter without a certain talent for cunning,” Irving said with a touch of pride, “And Greigor was not adverse to waiting for Jowan to emerge. And if nothing else, I take pleasure I the fact that we managed to strike back at Greigor. Implicating one of his Initiates will make him think twice about accusing Mages, and it’s not every day that such an opportunity presents itself.”  
He smiled at this last statement, and seemed surprised at the look of bitter resentment that coloured Holly’s features.   
“Goodbye, First Enchanter.”   
And with that, Holly left Drakon Tower, and felt moonlight on her skin for the first time that she could remember.   
Irving watched her leave, and then turned, head bound and weariness seeping into his very bones, and returned to the Circle.


End file.
